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THE 


Light  of  the  World 


OR 


THE  GREAT  CONSUMMATION 


BY 


Sir    EDWIN    ARNOLD  K.C.I.E.  C.S.I. 


AUTHOR    OF 
THE   LIGHT  OF  ASIA  Etc. 


FUNK    &    WAGNALLS 

1 8   AND    20   ASTOR    PLACE 
189  I 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Coneress   in  ,u 

'-ong-ress,  in  the  year  1801,  by 

FUNK    &    WAGNALLS 


This  copyrijrht  protects  the  work-  of  n  „  a 
wich  Sir  Edwin  Arnold,  has  con  r'bu  e/lfn^:":"'"'"  "'°'  '"  -"^»'°-t'on 
vvh.ch  hnes  are  incorporated  in  both  the  Amer  can  ed  V '  '°"'°"'  °'  ''^'^  P"^"' 
t.on      It  protects,  also,  the  Introduction  57^11    s'"^"''"-     ''^  ^"^'"*' "''■ 
duction  of  the  Hoffman  illustrations  Stoddard,  and  the  repro- 


Dedicated 

So 

Slie  Queei^^^  IQost  Excellent  Iljajesty 


INTRODUCTORY. 


Poetry,  which  was  once  supposed  to  be  an  inspira- 
tion— a  delusion  which  was  fostered  by  immature 
rhymsters  to  palliate  their  shortcomings  and  impart 
dignity  to  their  trivialities — is  now  as  universally 
recognized  to  be  an  art  as  painting,  sculpture,  or 
music,  and  the  rules  to  which  it  conforms  have  been 
gathered  from  the  practice  of  the  masters,  and  form- 
ulated into  a  system  of  critical  laws,  which  not  to 
know  is  to  know  nothing  of  poetry.  Never  before  in 
the  history  of  English  literature  has  poetry  been  the 
art  which  it  is  to-day,  and  never  before  have  the 
divisions  of  this  art  been  so  clearly  discriminated. 
It  may  be  likened  to  a  great  kingdom,  over  which 
there  is  one  ruler,  who,  by  common  consent,  or  ad- 
missive courtesy,  is  acknowledged  monarch  for  the 
time  being,  but  whose  power  is  shared  by  other  mem- 
bers of  his  intellectual  line,  who  are  lords  and  gov- 

V 


VI  INTRODUCTORY. 

ernors  of  their  separate  dependencies  and  provinces. 
Never  since  the  throne  of  English  Song  was  filled  by- 
Shakespeare,  to  whom  {loftgo  intervallo)  Lord  Tenny- 
son is  a  worthy  successor,  has  any  single  sovereign  had 
such  peers  as  he  in  Robert  Browning,  Matthew  Ar- 
nold, Algernon  Charles  Swinburne,  Dante  Gabriel 
Rossetti,  William  Morris,  and  Sir  Edwin  Arnold. 
They  cannot  be  said  to  resemble  each  other,  as  the 
Elizabethan  poets  resembled  each  other,  and  it  is  one 
of  their  great  distinctions  that  they  do  not,  each 
dwelling  in  his  own  lordly  pleasure-house,  and  tri- 
umphing in  his  own  realm  of  thought  or  feeling — 
Browning  in  the  domain  of  spiritual  tragedy,  Arnold 
in  the  cloister  of  scholarly  meditation,  Swinburne  in 
the  halls  of  stormy  harmony,  Rossetti  in  the  border- 
land between  things  seen  and  unseen,  Morris  in  a 
paradise  of  earthly  visions  and  fantasies,  and  Sir 
Edwin  in  the  barbaric  splendors  of  the  Orient — the 
shadowy  maze  of  its  mythology,  and  the  mysterious 
light  of  its  speculation. 

There  is  no  trace  of  Orientalism  in  Sir  Edwin's  first 
volume  of  verse,  which  was  published  in  his  twenty- 
first  year,  and  which,  like  all  first  volumes,  was  a 
promise  rather  than  a  performance,  nor  does  any 
direct  trace  thereof  appear  in  the  writings  which 
he    produced    during   his   residence    in  India,  where 


INTRODUCTORY. 


he  was  Principal  of  the  Government  College  at 
Poona,  and  of  which  the  chief  was  an  edition  of 
"  The  Hitopadesa,"  and  an  English  translation  of 
the  same  work.  The  consciousness  of  his  poetic 
powers  was  not  awakened  in  him  until  his  forty- 
third  year,  and  then  not  fully  awakened,  for  what- 
ever may  be  the  spell  which  the  "  Gita  Govinda" 
exercises  in  the  original  over  Indian  readers,  an 
English  poet  with  a  clear  intellectual  vision  should 
have  seen  at  a  glance  that  no  translation,  however 
faithful,  and  no  paraphrase,  however  free,  would 
be  likely  to  interest  the  poetic  readers  of  England. 
The  English  mind  has  never  taken  kindly  to  allego- 
rical writing,  or  never  but  once,  as  in  "  The  Pil- 
grim's Progress,"  which,  by  virtue  of  the  awful 
theme  with  which  it  deals,  and  the  gloomy  force 
with  which  it  embraces  it,  still  retains  a  hold  on 
emotional  imaginations — least  of  all  such  allegorical 
writing  as  "  The  Indian  Song  of  Songs,"  which 
consists  of  a  succession  of  material  enticements  and 
temptations,  struggles  and  overthrows,  repentances 
and  atonements,  the  whole  shaping  itself  into  a 
kind  of  dream-drama,  if  dream-opera  be  not  the 
better  phrase,  between  whatever  ministers  to  the 
senses  of  man  on  the  one  hand,  and  whatever,  on 
the    other   hand,    ministers   to  their  divine   protago- 


VIU  INTRODUCTORY. 

nist — the  Soul.  A  poem,  the  main  motif  of  which  is 
a  shadowy  delineation  of  the  conflict  between  ab- 
stractions and  suggestions  of  vice  and  virtue,  can 
have  no  permanent  place  in  the  literature  of  a 
people  who  have  suffered  "  The  Faerie  Queene  "  to 
become  practically  obsolete,  and  who  endure  rather 
than  admire  "  The  Sensitive  Plant."  But  whatever 
may  be  thought  of  Sir  Edwin's  version  of  the 
"  Gita  Govinda,"  it  possesses  one  merit  which  can- 
not be  granted  to  most  translations  of  Eastern 
poems,  or  most  poems  derived  from  Eastern 
sources,  and  that  is  the  absence  of  notes,  which 
professedly  written  as  helps,  are  really  hinderances 
to  readers,  in  that  they  distract  attention  from  the 
text  before  them,  and  which  generally  end  in  the 
discomfiture  of  the  translator,  or  adapter,  by  show- 
ing his  incompetency  to  reproduce  the  life  and  spirit 
of  his  original.  The  notes  to  "  Thalaba  "  and  "  The 
Curse  of  Kehama  "  are  better  reading  than  the  verse 
they  were  supposed  to  authenticate  and  illustrate — an 
objection  which  has  sometimes  been  found  with  the 
notes  to  "  Lalla  Rookh."  Sir  Edwin  was  aware  of 
this  principle  when  he  made  his  translation  of  "  The 
Indian  Song  of  Songs,"  and  was  possessed  by  it 
when,  after  an  interval  of  four  years,  he  sat  down  to 
write  "The    Light   of    Asia."     No   one   who   is   un- 


INTRODUCTORY.  IX 

familiar  with  the  stream  of  English  Song,  since  tlie 
inflowing  of  affluents  from  Oriental  sources,  is  com- 
petent to  judge  and  value,  except  from  a  poetical 
point  of  view,  the  ground  which  Sir  Edwin  has 
illuminated  in  "  The  Light  of  Asia."  Knowledge  of 
Sanskrit  letters  was  rare  in  England  until  Sir  William 
Jones  groped  his  way  in  that  direction  about  a  hun- 
dred and  twenty  years  ago,  in  eight  or  ten  Hymns, 
in  honor  of  as  many  Hindu  deities,  of  which  Hymns 
it  is  enough  to  say  that  they  were  considered  elegant 
at  the  time.  About  a  score  of  years  later,  grasping 
the  clew  which  he  held  at  first  with  a  feeble  hand. 
Sir  William  adventured  boldly  into  the  terra  incognita 
of  Sanskrit  verse,  and,  by  the  help  of  native  scholars, 
contrived  to  render  the  sweetest,  if  not  the  greatest 
work  of  the  greatest  Sanskrit  poet,  Kalidasa — the 
pastoral  drama  of  "  Sacontala."  Other  translators 
followed  :  Wilson,  for  instance,  adding  to  the  knowl- 
edge of  ancient  dramatic  literature  then  current  in 
England  three  volumes  of  translations  of  Hindu 
plays,  while  others  devoted  themselves  to  other 
examples  of  Hindu  writing — their  sacred  classics, 
their  popular  folk-lore,  their  laws,  their  histories, 
and  their  epics.  Oriental  Societies  sprang  up  plenti- 
fully in  England,  in  France,  in  Germany,  and  in 
India  itself.     It  was  an  era  of  philological  curiosity 


X  INTRODUCTORY. 

and  research,  in  Sankrit,  in  Persian,  in  Arabic,  in 
Turkish,  in  most  of  the  known  languages  of  the  East. 
Byron  and  Moore  made  Eastern  poetry  popular  in 
England,  and  the  minor  poets  walked  in  their  foot- 
steps; Milman  occupying  himself  with  translations 
from  the  "  Mahabharata,"  and  Hunt  immortalizing 
himself  in  that  most  exquisite  of  all  ethic  trifles, 
"Abou  Ben  Adhem."  Sir  Edwin  belongs  to  a  dis- 
tinguished line,  and,  wiser  in  his  day  and  generation 
than  those  who  went  before  him,  placed  himself  at 
its  head  when  he  wrote  "  The  Light  of  Asia,"  of  which 
no  prototype  existed,  and  which  was  fortunate  in  the 
choice  which  selected  Gautama  as  its  hero.  Whether 
Gautama  was  a  historical  personage,  or  the  aggrega- 
tion of  moral  myths,  did  not  concern  him  as  a  poet, 
nor  need  it  concern  us  while  we  read  his  poem.  What 
he  sought  was  an  ideal  character,  and  he  found  one  in 
one  of  the  great  teachers  of  the  race,  who,  born  a 
powerful  prince,  was  so  keenly  alive  to  the  misery 
and  ignorance  of  his  people,  so  crushed  with  their 
intolerable  burdens,  that  he  abandoned  his  throne 
and  his  kingdom,  and  wandered  away  alone  in  order 
to  discover,  if  he  might,  in  renunciation  and  medita- 
tion, a  cure  for  the  sorrow  and  the  suffering  of  man- 
kind. Such,  according  to  tradition,  was  Gaudama, 
and  for  the  object  which  Sir  Edwin   had   in  view  he 


INTRODUCTORY,  XI 

was  worthy  to  be  the  hero  of  "  The  Light  of  Asia," 
wherein  any  consideration  of  the  truth  or  falsehood 
of  Buddhism  as  a  religion  would  be  entirely  out  of 
place,  his  object  being  simply  to  tell  the  story  of  a 
remarkable  life,  and  to  delineate  a  noble  character: 
his  purpose,  in  other  words,  being  poetical  and  not 
polemical.  What  is  said  here  of  "  The  Light  of  Asia  " 
applies  with  equal  force  to  "  Pearls  of  the  Faith,"  as 
well  as  "  The  Song  Celestial,"  "  Indian  Idylls  "—in- 
deed, to  all  his  translations  from,  and  reproductions 
of.  Eastern  verse  of  an  ethical  nature. 

That  Sir  Edwin  has  added  largely  to  the  enjoyment 
of  thoughtful  readers  by  these  poems  is  as  certain  as 
that  they  have  added  a  serious  element  to  contem- 
porary English  verse,  which  is  no  longer  content  to 
depict  the  surface  of  things  in  felicitous  words,  flooded 
with  color  and  vibrant  with  melody,  but  determined 
to  investigate  the  secrets  of  souls,  and  resolute  to 
grapple  with  the  mystery  of  life  and  death. 

"  The  Light  of  Asia "  is  now  followed,  as  many 
hoped  it  would  be,  by  "  The  Light  of  the  World," 
which,  from  the  higher  significance  of  its  subject,  and 
the  greater  fervor  and  reverence  of  its  handling,  comes 
more  closely  home  to  the  bosoms  of  men.  The  theme 
of  many  poets,  in  many  languages,  the  divine  tragedy 
of  the  life  and  death  of    Christ    has  never    till  now 


Xll  INTRODUCTORY. 

been  considered  from  the  point  of  view  which  Sir 
Edwin  has  selected,  and  which  is  the  one  best  suited 
to  the  poetical  and  spiritual  development  of  his  work, 
in  that  it  is  the  one  above  all  others  to  which  the 
greatest  number  of  Oriental  influences  and  interests 
tend,  and  round  which  they  revolve  in  ever-widening 
circles.  Given  his  characters,  sacred  and  profane, 
and  the  situations  into  which  they  naturally  fall,  the 
necessity  for  his  poem,  and  his  manner  of  writing  it, 
is  so  apparent  that  one  wonders  it  was  not  perceived 
before.  It  was  much  to  have  written  "  The  Light  of 
Asia,"  but  it  is  more,  infinitely  more,  to  have  written 
"The  Light  of  the  World,"  of  which  every  lover  of 
sacred  song  will  say,  when  he  has  finished  it, 
"  That  strain  I  heard  was  of  a  higher  mood." 

Richard  Henry  Stoddard. 

New  York, 

The  Century  Club, 

October  22,  1890. 


PROEME. 


The  Sovereign  Voice  spake,  once  more,  in  mine  ear  : 
"Write,  now,  a  song  unstained  by  any  tear!" 

"  What  shall  I  write  ?"     I  said.     The  Voice  replied, 
"  Write  what  We  tell  thee  of  The  Crucified  !" 

"  How  shall  I  write,"  I  said,  "  who  am  not  meet 
One  word  of  that  sweet  speaking  to  repeat  ?" 

"  It  shall  be  given  unto  thee  !     Do  this  thing  !" 
Answered  The  Voice:  "  Wash  thy  lips  clean  and  sing!" 


INDEX 


Pages. 
At  Bethlehem 17-  53 


BOOK      I. — Mary  Magdalene 55-ior 

BOOK    II.— The  Magus 103-130 

BOOK  III. — The  Alabaster  Box 131-166 

i  The  Parables 167-196 

BOOK  IV.—  ] 

(  At  Tyre 197-204 

BOOK     V. — The  Love  of  God  and  Man..  .  205-248 

BOOK  VI. — The  Great  CoNsuMMATHJN 249-286 


15 


:>'    OF 


pi 


THE   LIGHT  OF  THE  WORLD. 


AT   BETHLEHEM. 


So  many  hills  arising,  green  and  gay, 

On  Earth's  large  round,  and  that  one  hill  to  say  : 

"  I  was  his  bearing  place  !  "  On  Earth's  wide  breast 

So  many  maids  !  and  She — of  all  most  blest — 

Heavily  mounting  Bethlehem,  to  be 

His  Mother  !— Holy  Maid  of  Galilee  ! 

Hill,  with  the  olives,  and  the  little  town  ! 

If  rivers  from  their  crystal  founts  flow  down, 

If  'twas  the  Dawn  which  did  Day's  gold  unbar, 

Ye  were  beginnings  of  the  best  we  are. 

The  most  we  see,  the  highest  that  we  know, 
17 


lO  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

The  lifting  heavenward  of  Man's  life  below. 
Therefore,  though  better  lips  ye  shall  not  lack, 
Suffer  if  one  of  modern  mood  steals  back — 
Weary  and  wayworn,  from  the  Desert-road 
Of  barren  Thought ;  from  Hope's  Dead  Sea,  which 

glowed 
With  Love's  fair  mirage  ;  from  the  Poet's  haunt. 
The  scholar's  lamp,  the  statesman's  scheme,  the  vaunt, 
The  failure,  of  all  fond  Philosophies, — 
Back  unto  Thee,  back  to  thy  olive-trees, 
Thy  people,  and  thy  story,  and  thy  Son, 
Mary  of  Nazareth  !  So  long  agone 
Bearing  us  Him  who  made  our  Christendom, 
And  came  to  save  the  Earth,  from  Heav'n,  His  home. 

So  many  hill-sides,  crowned  with  rugged  rocks  ! 
So  many  simple  shepherds  keeping  flocks 
In  many  moonlit  fields  !  but,  only  they — 
So  lone,  so  long  ago,  so  far  away — 
On  that  one  winter's  night,  at  Bethlehem, 


AT    BETHLEHEM.  I9 

To  have  white  Angels  singing  lauds  for  them  ! 

They  only — hinds  wrapped  in  the  he-goat's  skin — 

To  hear  Heaven's  music,  bidding  Peace  begin  ! 

Only  for  those,  of  countless  watching  eyes, 

The  "  Glory  of  the  Lord  "  glad  to  arise  ; 

The  skies  to  blaze  with  gold  and  silver  light 

Of  seraphs  by  strong  joy  flashed  into  sight  ; 

The  wind,  for  them,  with  that  strange  song  to  swell, — 

By  too  much  happiness  incredible, — 

That  tender  Anthem  of  good  times  to  be, 

Then  at  their  dawn — not  daylight  yet,  ah  me  ! 

"  Peace  upon  Earth  !  Good-will !  "  sung  to  the  strings 

Of  lutes  celestial.     Nay,  if  these  things 

Too  blessed  to  believe  have  seemed,  or  seem, 

Not  ours  the  fault,  dear  Angels  !   Prove  the  dream 

Waking  and  true  !  sing  once  again,  and  make 

Moonlight  and  starlight  sweet  for  Earth's  sad  sake  ! 

Or,  if  Heaven  bids  ye  lock  in  silence  still 

Conquests  of  Peace,  and  coming  of  Good-will, 

Till  times  to  be,  then — oh,  you  placid  sheep ! 


20  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Ah,  thrice-blest  shepherds  !  suffer  if  we  creep 

Back  through  the  tangled  thicket  of  the  years 

To  graze  in  your  fair  flock,  to  strain  our  ears 

With  listening  herdsmen,  if,  perchance,  one  note 

Of  such  high  singing  in  the  fine  air  float  ; 

If  any  rock  thrills  yet  with  that  great  strain 

We  did  not  hear,  and  shall  not  hear,  again  ; 

If  any  olive-leaf  at  Bethlehem 

Lisps  still  one  syllable  vouchsafed  to  them  ; 

If    some   stream,  conscious    still — some    breeze — be 

stirred 
With  echo  of  th'  immortal  words  ye  heard. 

What  was  it  that  ye  heard  ?  the  wind  of  Night 
Playing  in  cheating  tones,  with  touches  light. 
Amid  the  palm-plumes?  or,  one  stop  outblown 
Of  planetary  music,  so  far  flown 

Earthwards,  that  to  those  innocent  ears  'twas  brought 
Which  bent  the  mighty  measure  to  their  thought  ? 
Or,  haply,  from  breast-shaped  Beth-Haccarem, 


AT    BETHLEHEM. 

The  hill  of  Herod,  some  waft  sent  to  them 
Of  storming  drums  and  trumps,  at  festival 
Held  in  the  Idumaean's  purple  hall? 
Or,  it  may  be,  some  Aramaic  song 
Of  country  lovers,  after  partings  long 
Meeting  anew,  with  much  "good-will  "  indeed, 
Blown  by  some  swain  upon  his  Jordan  reed  ? 
Nay,  nay  !  your  abbas  back  ye  did  not  fling. 
From  each  astonished  ear,  for  swains  to  sing 
Their  village-verses  clear  ;  for  sounds  well-known 
Of  wandering  breeze,  or  whispering  trees,  or  tone 
Of  Herod's  trumpets.     And  ye  did  not  gaze 
Heart-startled  on  the  stars  (albeit  the  rays 
Of  that  lone  orb  shot,  sparkling,  from  the  East 
Unseen  before)  for  these,  largest  and  least, 
Were  fold-lamps,  lighted  nightly  :  and  ye  knew 
Far  differing  glory  in  the  Night's  dark  blue 
Suddenly  lit  with  rose,  and  pierced  with  spike 
Of  golden  spear-beam.     Oh,  a  dream,  belike  ! 
Some  far  fetched  Vision,  new  to  peasant's  sleep, 


22  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Of  Paradise  stripped  bare  ! — But,  why  thus  keep 
Secrets  for  them  ?     This  bar,  which  doth  enclose 
Better  and  nobler  souls,  why  burst  for  those 
Who  supped  on  the  parched  pulse,  and  lapped  the 

stream, 
And  each,  at  the  same  hour,  dreams  the  same  dream! 
Or,  easier  still,  they  lied  !     Yet,  wherefore,  then 
"  Rise,  and  go  up  to  Bethlehem,"  and  unpen 
To  wolf  and  jackal  all  their  hapless  fold 
So  they  might  "  see  these  things  v/hich  had  been  told 
In  Heaven's  own  Voice?"     And    Heaven,  whate'er 

betide. 
Spreads  surely  somewhere,  on  Death's  farther  side  ! 
This  sphere  obscure,  viewed  with  dim  eyes  to  match, 
This  earthly  span — gross,  brief — wherein  we  snatch, 
Rarely  and  faintly,  glimpses  of  Times  past 
Which  have  been  boundless,  and  of  Times  to  last 
Beyond  them  timelessly,  how  should  such  be 
All  to  be  seen,  all  we  were  made  to  see  ? 
This  flesh  fallacious,  binding  us,  indeed, 


AT    BETHLEHEM.  23 

To  sense,  and  yet  so  largely  leaving  freed 
That  we  do  know  things  are  we  cannot  know, 
And  high  and  higher  on  Thought's  stair-ways  go 
Till  each  last  round  leads  to  some  sudden  steep 
Where  reason  swims,  and  falters,  or  must  leap 
Headlong,  perforce,  into  the  Infinite, 
How  should  we  say  outside  this  shines  no  light 
Of  lovelier  scenes  unseen,  of  lives  which  spread 
Pleasant  and  unexpected  for  the  Dead, 
As  our  World,  opening  to  the  Babe's  wide  eyes 
New  from  the  womb,  and  full  of  birth's  surprise  ? 
How  should  this  prove  the  All,  the  Last,  the  First  ? 
Why  shall  no  inner,  under,  splendors  burst 
Once — twice — the  Veil?     Why  put  a  marvel  by 
Because  too  rich  with  Hope  ?     Why  quite  deny 
The  Heavenly  story,  lest  our  doubtful  hearts — 
Which  mark  the  stars,  and  take  them  for  bright  parts 
Of  boundless  Being,  ships  of  life  that  sail 
In  glittering  argosies — without  a  tale. 
Without  a  term — or,  of  that  shoreless  Sea, 


24  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

The  scattered  silver  Islets,  drifting  free 
To  destinies  unmeasured — see,  too,  there 
By  help  of  dead  believing  eyes,  which  were, 
The  peoples  of  the  Stars  ;  and  listen,  meek, 
To  those  vast  voices  of  the  Stars,  which  speak — 
If  ever  they  shall  speak — in  each  man's  tongue? 

And,  truly,  if  Joy's  music  once  hath  rung 
From  lips  of  bands  invisible,  if  any — 
(Be  they  the  Dead,  or  of  the  deathless  Many — ) 
Love  and  serve  Man,  angelical  Befrienders, 
Glad  of  his  weal,  and  from  his  woe  Defenders, — 
If  such,  in  Heaven,  have  pity  on  our  tears, 
Forever  falling  with  the  unmending  years. 
High  cause  had  they,  at  Bethlehem,  that  night 
To  lift  the  curtain  of  Hope's  hidden  light, 
To  break  decree  of  silence  with  Love's  cry, 
Foreseeing  how  this  Babe,  born  lowlily. 
Should — past  dispute,  since  now  achieved  is  this- 
Bring  Earth  great  gifts  of  blessing  and  of  bliss  ; 


AT    BETHLEHEM.  25 

Date,  from  that  crib,  the  Dynasty  of  Love  ; 

Strip  his  misused  thunderbolts  from  Jove  ; 

Bend  to  their  knee  Rome's  Caesars,  break  the  chain 

From  the  slave's  neck  ;  set  sick  hearts  free  again 

Bitterly  bound  by  priests,  and  scribes,  and  scrolls  ; 

And  heal,  with  balm  of  pardon,  sinking  souls  : 

Should  Mercy  to  her  vacant  throne  restore, 

Teach  Right  to  Kings,  and  Patience  to  the  poor  : 

Should  by  His  sweet  Name  all  names  overthrow, 

And  by  His  lovely  words,  the  quick  seeds  sow 

Of  golden  equities,  and  brotherhood. 

Of  Pity,  Peace,  and  gentle  praise  of  Good  ; 

Of  knightly  honor,  holding  life  in  trust 

For  God,  and  Lord,  and  all  things  pure  and  just  ; 

Lowly  to  Woman  ;  for  Maid  Mary's  sake 

Lifting  our  sister  from  the  dust,  to  take 

In  homes  her  equal  place,  the  Household's  Queen, 

Crowned  and  august  who  sport  and  thrall  had  been  ; 

Of  arts  adorning  Life,  of  charities 

Gracious  and  wide,  because  the  impartial  skies 


26  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE   WORLD. 

Roof  one  race  in  ;  and  poor,  weak,  mean,  oppressed, 

Are  children  of  one  bounteous  Mother's  breast. 

One  Father's  care  :  emancipating  Man, 

Should,  from  that  bearing-cave,  outside  the  Khan, 

Amid  the  kneeling  cattle,  rise,  and  be 

Light  of  all  lands,  and  splendor  of  each  sea, 

The  sun-burst  of  a  new  Morn  come  to  Earth, 

Not  yet,  alas  !  broad  Day,  but  Day's  white  birth 

Which  promiseth  ;  and  blesseth,  promising. 

These  from  that  Night  !     What  cause  of  wondering 

If  that  one  Silence  of  all  Silences 

Brake  into  music  ?  if,  for  hopes  like  these 

Angels,  who  love  us,  sang  that  song,  and  show 

Of  Time's  far  purpose  made  the  "  great  light  "  glow  ? 

Wherefore,  let  whosoever  will  drink  dry 
His  cup  of  faith  ;  and  think  that,  verily. 
Not  in  a  vision,  no  way  otherwise 
Than  those  poor  shepherds  told,  there  did  arise 
This  portent.     Being  amidst  their  sheep  and  goats. 


AT    BETHLEHEM.  2'J 

Lapped  careless  in  their  pasture-keeping  coats, 
Blind  as  their  drowsy  beasts  to  what  drew  nigh, 
(Such  the  lulled  ear,  and  such  th'  unbusied  eye 
Which  ofttimes  hears  and   sees   hid  things  !  )    there 

spread 
The  "  Glory  of  the  Lord  "  around  each  head, 
A  Light  not  morn-glow,  nor  the  grey  of  Night, 
Nor  lightning-flash,  nor  lit  like  any  light 
By  earthly  orbs  beheld,  but  fetched  from  beam 
Of  that  Concentral  Sun  whereby  Suns  gleam. 
Which  kindles  spheres,  and  has  for  Dusk  full  Noon, 
Shining  behind  the  Blue,  past  Sun  and  Moon, 
And  making  hyaline  of  aether  clear 
Where,  with  new  eyes,  souls — free  of  Death  and  Fear- 
In  range  incomprehensible,  and  ray 
Of  limitless  illuming,  see  alway 
Authentic  Being  :  outside  Life's  close  bars, 
By  Life's  light  blotted,  as  at  noon  the  stars. 
Such    light   spreads   bright    behind    that    blindness 

here 


25  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Which  men  name  "  seeing  ;  "  and  such  Heav'n-Dawn 

dear 
(As  it  had  reason  by  such  Day  to  follow  ! ) 
Broke,  be  it  deemed,  o'er  hill  and  over  hollow, 
On  the  inner  seeing,  the  sense  concealed,  unknown, 
Of  those  plain  hinds — glad,  humble,  and  alone — 
Flooding  their  minds,  filling  their  hearts  ;  around, 
Above,  below,  disclosing  grove  and  ground. 
The  rocks,  the  hill,  the  town,  the  solitude, 
The    wondering    flocks, — agaze    with    grass    half- 
chewed, — 
The  palm-crowns,  and  the  path  to  Bethlehem, 
As  sight  angelic  spies.     And,  came  to  them 
The  "Angel  of  the  Lord,"  visible,  sure. 
Known  for  the  Angel  by  his  presence  pure 
Whereon  was  written  Love,  and  Peace,  and  Grace, 
With  beauty  passing  mortal  mien  and  face. 
His  form  declaring  him.     We  should  not  seek, — 
As  they,  too,  sought  not, — any  voice  to  speak 
The  titles  of  the  chief  of  those  who  stand 


AT    BETHLEHEM.  29 

Ruling  our  Planet,  for  th'  encircling  Hand 

Which  scatters  Suns  and  Stars  athwart  the  Blue 

As  sowers  fling  the  seed.     We  should  know,  too, 

The  great  and  tender  eyes,  sad  with  our  sinning, 

Glad  when  we  strive  aright,  'ware  of  Beginning, 

And  Ending,  and  the  Reasons  and  the  Path  ; 

That  gracious,  potent  Friend  who  wisdom  hath 

Of  whence  all  come,  and  whereunto  all  go  ; 

(He,  in  Gethsemane,  did  see  him  so  !) 

The  embodied,  blinding,  loveliness  of  all 

Which,  of  Earth's  dearest  Dead,  our  hearts  recall, 

To  perfectness  transfigured  and  combined  ; 

In  heavenly  type  of  utmost  Humankind. 

Not  robed,  not  sandalled,  as  the  painters  limn, 

But  past  all  dreams,  till  we  wake,  seeing  him  ; 

And,  then,  as  natural,  as  dear,  as  known 

As  to  the  Babe  its  Mother's  brows  bent  down. 

Wingless  ;  for  where  these  live  there  blows  no  wind, 

Nor  aught  is  gross  as  air,  nor  any  kind  ^ 

Of  substance,  whereby  spirit's  march  is  stopped  ; 


30  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Nothing  so  heavy  as  the  snow-flower  dropped 

Feather-like  on  the  wild  swan's  feather,  or  dip 

Of  Swallow  in  the  streamlet,  or  Love's  lip 

Kissing  the  Dead.     Oh,  Certes  !  not  of  men, 

Yet,  blending  form  with  spirit ;  nay,  and  then, 

Supreme,  majestical  !  for  terror  fell — 

With  worship, — on  their  hearts,  the  writings  tell ; 

So  that  the  Angel  of  the  Earth  had  need 

To  comfort  them,  speaking  these  words,  indeed  : 

"  Fear  not  !  For  behold  i  bring  you 
good  tidings  of  great  joy,  which  shall 
be  to  all  people." 

"  For    unto    you    is  born    this  day 

IN    THE    CITY    OF    DaVID,  A    SaVIOR,  V/HICH 

IS  Christ  the  Lord." 

"And   this  the   sign   unto   you!  ye 

SHALL    find  the    BABE    WRAPPED    IN  SWAD- 
DLING clothes  LYING  IN  A  MANGER." 


AT    BETHLEHEM.  3I 

Might  he  not  speak  so,  if,  in  truth,  we  heard 
Our  Angel,  and  "  the  Lord's  ;"  with  simple  word 
Easy  and  sweet,  as  to  her  little  son 
A  nursing  mother  ;  or — when  Night  is  done — 
Dawn's  soft  breath   whispering  plain  ;    "  lo  !      I   am 

Day!" 
But,  of  those  things  which  the  Bright  One  did  say, 
So  high,  so  new,  so  glad,  so  comforting, 
*'  Good  tidings  of  great  joy  to  you  I  bring  !  " 
The  echo,  not  the  meaning,  of  his  speech 
Lives  ;  and  men  tell  it  sadly  each  to  each, 
With  lips,  not  hearts  ;  sadly,  from  tongue  to  tongue, 
The  Ages,  unpersuaded,  pass  along 
The  dulcet  message,  like  a  dream  bygone 
Which  was  for  happy  sleepers,  but  is  flown. 
We  bleed,  and  hate,  and  suffer,  and  are  blind, 
Uncomprehending;  yet,  if  one  will  mind, 
That  light  is  shining  still  on  Life's  far  side  ; 
And  the  Apostle,  and  Heaven's  angel,  lied. 
Or  else,  from  Heaven  that  night  th'  Evangel  fell : 


32  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

*'  Beginnings  of  the  Golden  Times  we  tell  ! 
Now  is  the  new  Law  opened  !  Mary's  son 
Hath  opened  it,  and,  when  full  years  are  run, 
Peace  shall  be,  and  Good-will,  and  Mercy  shed 
Over  all  flesh  and  spirit,  quick  and  dead  ! 
The  consummation  comes,  the  purposed  Bliss  ; 
Earth  was  for  Now  ;  her  glad  days  spring  from  this  ! 

Nor  only  that  one  Angel  (if  we  dare 
Receive)  for  "  suddenly  was  with  him  there 
A  multitude  of  heavenly  ones,"  who  throng 
The  silvery  gleam,  all  singing  that  same  song 
Of  Peace  and  Love  ;  all — for  our  Planet's  sake — 
Praising  Elol 

'Tis  the  Name  He  spake 
In  th'  Aramaic,  at  His  Mother's  knee, 
In  white-walled  Nazareth  of  Galilee, 
Lisping  first  speech  ;  and  after,  on  His  Cross  ; 
But  we  have  sore  misused,  to  all  men's  loss, 
The  great  word  "  God,"  speaking  the  Unspeakable 


The  Holy   Night  in   Bethlehem. 


Glory  to  God  in  the  highest, 

And  on  earth  peace  among  men  in   wtmm  he  is  well  pleased. — I.fKE  II  :    14. 


AT    BETHLEHEM.  33 

With  daily  lips,  and  doing  nowise  well 
To  give  thereby  parts,  passions,  qualities 
To  the  All-Being,  Who  hath  none  of  these  ; 
Mingling    weak    mortal     thoughts    of     "  Sire "    and 

"King" 
In  "  God  the  Father  ;  "  and  so  worshipping 
An  idol,  served  with  muttered  spell  and  moan. 
Baser  than  brass,  and  duller  than  dead  stone  ; 
A  graven  image  of  that  Glorious  All 
Who  hath  no  form,  and  Whom  His  Angels  call 
By  never-uttered  names,  and  Whom  to  see 
Not  once  hath  been,  and  never  once  shall  be  ; 
Who  doth,  in  universal  rule,  possess 
Majesty,  beauty,  love,  delightfulness  ; 
The  omnipresent,  conscious,  Joy.     'Twere  well, — 
If  nam.e  must  be — with  Mary's  Son  to  spell 
This  unspoiled  Word,  mystical,  free  of  dread. 
Ancient  and  hallowed  ;  and  by  those  lips  said 
Which  knew  its  meaning  most,  and  called  "  God  "  SO, 
"  Eloi  "  in  the  Highest.) 


34  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Heaven  aglow  ! 
And  the  mild  burden  of  its  minstrelsy  : 
Peace  beginning  to  be, 
Deep  as  the  sleep  of  the  sea 

When  the  stars  their  faces  glass 
In  its  blue  tranquillity  : 
Hearts  of  men  jtpoji  earth, 
From  the  first  to  the  second  birth. 
To  rest  as  the  7vild  waters  rest 
With  the  colors  of  Heaven  on  their  breast. 

Love,  which  is  sunlight  of  peace. 
Age  by  age  to  increase. 

Till  Anger  and  Hatred  are  dead 
And  Sorrow  and  Death  shall  cease  : 
*'  Peace  on  Earth  and  Good-will  I  " 
Souls  that  are  gentle  and  still 
Hear  the  first  music  of  this 
Far-off,  infinite,  Bliss  I 

So— or  in  such  wise— those  rude  shepherds  heard 


AT    BETHLEHEM.  35 

The  Angels  singing  clear  ;  when  not  one  word 
Wiser  ones  caught  that  night — solemn  and  still — 
Of  their  high  errand  :  '■'■Peace  !  Good-will !  Good-will!'' 

Ah  !  think  we  listened  there, 

With  opened  heart  and  ear, 
And  heard,  in  truth,  as  these  men  say  they  heard. 

On  flock,  and  rock,  and  tree, 

Raining  such  melody  ; 
Heaven's  love  descending  in  that  loveliest  word, 

"  Peace  !  "     Not  at  first !  not  yet ! 

Our  Earth  had  to  forget 
Burden  of  birth,  and  travail  of  slow  years  ; 

But  now  the  dark  time  done  ! 

Daylight  at  length  begun  ! 
First  gold  of  Sun  in  sight,  dispelling  fears  ! 

Peace,  pledged,  at  last,  to  Man  ! 
Qh  !  if  there  only  ran 


36  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Thrill  of  such  surety  through  one  human  soul, 

Would  not  the  swift  joy  start 

From  beating  heart  to  heart, 
Lighting  all  lands  ;  leaping  from  pole  to  pole  ? 

Peace,  Peace — to  come  !  to  be  ! 

If.  such  were  certainty 
Far-off,  at  length,  at  latest,  any  while, 

What  woe  were  hard  to  bear  ? 

What  sorrow  worth  one  tear? 
Murder  would  soften,  black  Despair  would  smile. 

But,  heralded  on  high, 

From  midnight's  purple  sky 
Dropped    like   the    sudden    rain    which    brings    the 
flowers  ; 

Peace  !     Aye  to  dwell  with  men 

No  strife,  no  wars  !  and,  then. 
The  coupled  comfort  of  those  golden  hours. 

GooD-wiLL  !     Consider  this, 
What  easy,  perfect  bliss 


AT    BETHLEHEM.  37 

If,  over  all  the  Earth  the  one  change  spread 
That  Hate  and  Fraud  should  die, 
And  all  in  amity, 

Let  go  rapine,  and  wrath,  and  wrong,  and  dread  ! 

What  lack  of  Paradise 

If,  in  angelic  wise, 
Each  unto  Each,  as  to  himself,  were  dear? 

If  we  in  souls  descried, 

Whatever  form  might  hide. 
Own  brother,  and  own  sister,  everywhere  ? 

All  this, — not  whispered  low 

To  one  heart,  full  of  woe 
By  reason  of  blood-reddened  fields  of  Earth, 

By  sight  of  Fear  and  Hate, 

And  policies  of  state. 
And  evil  fruits  which  have  from  these  their  birth  : 

But,  through  their  ears,  to  us 
Straitly  imparted  thus 


38  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

With  pomp  of  glittering  Angels,  and  their  train  ; 

And  radiance  of  such  light 

As  maketh  mid-day  night, 
And  heavenliest  speech  of  Heaven,  not  heard  again 

Till  these  things  come  to  pass  !  — 

Nay,  if  it  be — alas  !  — 
A  vision,  let  us  sleep  and  dream  it  true ! 

Or — sane,  and  broad-awake, 

For  its  great  sound  and  sake, 
Take  it,  and  make  it  Earth's,  and  peace  ensue  ! 

So  when  the  Angels  were  no  more  to  see, 
Re-entering  those  gates  of  space, — whose  key 
Love  keeps  on  that  side,  and  on  this  side  Death — 
Each  shepherd  to  the  other  whispering  saith. 
Lest  he  should  miss  some  lingering  symphonies 
Of  that  departing  music,  "  Let  us  rise 
And  go  even  now  to  Bethlehem,  and  spy 
This  which  is  come  to  pass,  shewed  graciously 


AT    BETHLEHEM.  39 

By  the  Lord's  Angels."     Therewith  hasted  they 
By  olive-yards,  and  old  walls  mossed  and  grey 
Where,  in  close  chinks,  the  lizard  and  the  snake 
Thinking  the  sunlight  come,  stirred,  half-awake  : 
Across  the  terraced  levels  of  the  vines, 
Under  the  pillared  palms,  along  the  lines 
Of  lance-leaved  oleanders,  scented  sweet, 
Through  the  pomegranate-gardens  sped  their  feet  ; 
Over  the  causeway,  up  the  slope,  they  spring, 
Breast  the  steep  path,  with  steps  not  slackening  ; 
Past  David's  well,  past  the  town-wall  they  ran, 
Unto  the  House  of  Chimham,  to  the  Khan, 
Where  mark  them  peering  in,  the  posts  between, 
Questioning — all  out  of  breath — if  birth  hath  been 
This  night,  in  any  guesl-room,  high  or  low? 
The  drowsy  porter  at  the  gate  saith,  "  No  !  " — 
Shooting  the  bars  ;  while  the  packed  camels  shake 
Their  bells  to  listen,  and  the  sleepers  wake, 
And  to  their  feet  the  ponderous  steers  slow  rise, 
Lifting  from  trampled  fodder  large  mild  eyes  ; — 


40  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

"  Nay  !  Brothers  !   no  such  thing  !  yet  there  is  gone 
Yonder,  one  nigh  her  time,  a  gentle  one  ! 
With  him  that  seemed  her  spouse — of  Galilee  ; 
They  toiled  at  sundown  to  our  doors — but,  see  ! 
No  nook  was  here  !     Seek  at  the  cave  instead  ; 
We  shook  some  barley-straw  to  make  their  bed." 

Then  to  the  cave  they  wended,  and  there  spied 
That  which  was  more,  if  truth  be  testified, 
Than  all  the  pomp  seen  thro'  proud  Herod's  porch 
Ablaze  with  brass,  and  silk,  and  scented  torch, 
High  on  Beth-Haccarem  ;  more  to  behold, 
If  men  had  known,  than  all  the  glory  told 
Of  splendid  Ccesar  in  his  marbled  home 
On  the  white  Isle  ;  or  audience-hall  at  Rome 
With    trembling    princes    thronged.     A    clay    lamp 

swings 
By  twisted  camel-cords,  from  blackened  rings, 
Shewing  with  flickering  gleams,  a  Child  new-born 
Wrapped  in  a  cloth,  laid  where  the  beasts,  at  morn 


AT    BETHLEHEM.  4I 

Will  champ  their  bean-straw  :  in  the  lamp-ray  dim 
A  fresh-made  Mother  by  Him,  fostering  Him 
With  face  and  mien  to  worship,  speaking  nought ; 
Close  at  hand  Joseph,  and  the  ass,  hath  brought 
That  precious  two-fold  burden  to  the  gate  ; 
With  goats,  sheep,  oxen,  driven  to  shelter  late  : 
No  mightier  sight  !     Yet  all  sufficeth  it — 
If  we  will  deem  things  be  beyond  our  wit — 
To   prove   Heaven's  music  true,  and  show  Heaven's 

way. 
How,  not  by  famous  Kings,  nor  with  array 
Of  brazen  letters  on  the  boastful  stone, 
But  "by  the  mouth  of  babes,"  quiet,  alone. 
Little  beginnings  planning  for  large  ends, 
With  other  purpose  than  fond  Man  attends, 
Wisdom  and  Love,  in  secret  fellowship 
Guide  our  World's  wandering  with  a  finger-tip  ; 
And  how,  that  night,  as  these  did  darkly  see. 
They  sealed  the  first  scrolls  of  Earth's  history, 
And  opened  what  shall  run  till  Death  be  dead. 


42  THE    LIGHT    OF   THE    WORLD. 

Which  babe  they  reverenced,  bending  low  the  head, 
First  of  all  worshippers  ;  and  told  the  things 
Done  in  the  plain,  and  played  on  Angel's  strings. 
Then  those  around  wondered  and  worshipped,  too, 
And  Mary  heard — but  wondered  not — anew 
Hiding  this  in  her  heart,  the  heart  which  beat 
With  blood  of  Jesus  Christ,  holy  and  sweet. 

Also,  not  marvelling,  albeit  they  heard. 
Stood  certain  by — those  three  swart  ones— appeared 
From  climes  unknown  ;  yet,  surely,  on  high  quest 
Of  what  that  star  proclaimed,  bright  on  the  breast 
First  of  the  Ram,  afterwards  glittering  thence 
Into  the  watery  Trigon,  where,  intense, 
It  lit  the  Crab,  and  burned  the  Fishes  pale. 
Three  Signiors,  owning  many  a  costly  bale  ; 
Three  travelled  Masters,  by  their  bearing  Lords 
Of  lands  and  slaves.     The  Indian  silk  affords. 
With  many  a  folded  braid  of  white  and  gold. 
Shade  to  their  brows  ;  rich  goat-hair  shawls  did  foW 


AT    BETHLEHEM.  43 

Their  gowns  of  flow'r'd  white  muslin,  midway  tied  ; 
And  ruby,  turkis,  emerald — stones  of  pride — 
Blazed  on  their  thumb-rings  ;  and  a  pearl  gleamed 

white 
In  every  ear  ;  and  silver  belts,  clasped  tight, 
Held    ink-box,    reeds,    and    knives,    in    scabbards 

gemmed  ; 
Curled    shoes   of   goat-skin    dyed,  with    seed-pearls 

hemmed, 
Shod    their   brown    feet  ;    hair   shorn  ;    lids    low,    to 

think — 
Eyes  deep  and  wistful,  as  of  those  who  drink 
Waters  of  hidden  wisdom,  night  and  day. 
And  live  twain  lives,  conforming  as  they  may, 
In  diligence,  and  due  observances 
To  ways  of  men  ;  yet,  not  at  one  with  these  ; 
But  ever  straining  past  the  things  that  seem 
To  That  which  Is — the  Truth  behind  the  Dream. 
Three  princely  wanderers  of  the  Asian  blood 
Perchance,  by  Indus  dwellers  ;  or  some  flood, 


44  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

That  feeds  her  from  Himala's  icy  dome  ; 
Or,  haply,  to  those  Syrian  palm-trees  come 
From  Gunga's  banks,  or  mounts  of  Malabar 
Which  lift  the  Deccan  to  its  sun,  and  far — • 
Rampart-like — fringe  the  blue  Arabian  Sea. 
True  followers  of  the  Buddh  they  seemed  to  be, 
The  better  arm  and  shoulder  showing  bare 
With  each  ;  and  on  the  neck  of  each,  draped  fair 
A  scarf  of  saffron,  patched  ;  and,  'twixt  the  eyes, 
In  saffron  stamped,  the  Name  of  mysteries 
OM  ;  and  the  Swastika,  with  secrets  rife 
How  Man  may  'scape  the  dire  deceits  of  Life. 

These  Three  stood  by,  as  who  would  entrance  make  ; 
And  heard  the  Shepherd's  tale  ;  and,  hearing,  spake 
Strange  Indian  words  one  to  another ;  then  sent 
Command.     Their  serving-men,  obedient, 
Cast  loose  from  off  the  camels,  kneeling  nigh, 
Nettings  and  mats,  and  made  the  fastenings  fly 
From  belly-band,  and  crupper-rope,  and  tail ; 


AT    BETHLEHEM.  45 

And  broke  the  knots,  and  let  each  dusty  bale 

Slide  from    the  saddle-horns,  and  give  to  see 

Long-hoarded  treasure  of  great  jewellery, 

And  fragrant  secrets  of  the  Indian  grove, 

And  splendors  of  the  Indian  looms,  inwove 

With    gold   and    silver   flowers  :     "  for,    now "    said 

they 
"  Our  eyes  have  seen  this  thing  sought  day  by  day  ; 
By  the  all-conscious,  silent  sky  well-known. 
And,  specially,  of  yon  white  star  fore-shown 
Which,  bursting  magically  on  the  sight. 
Beckoned  us  from  our  homes,  shining  aright, 
The  silver  beacon  to  this  holy  hill  : 
Mark  if  it  sparkles  not,  aware  and  still. 
Over  the  place  /  The  astral  houses,  see  ! 
Spake  truth  :  Our  feet  were  guided  faithfully, 
'Tis  the  Star-Child,  who  was  to  rise,  and  wear 
A  crown  than  Suleiman's  more  royal  and  rare, 
*  King  of  the  Jews  !  '  Grant  an  approach  to  us 
Who  crave  to  worship  Him." 


46  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Now,  it  fell  thus 
That  these  first  to  Jerusalem  had  passed, 
And  sojourned  there,  observing  feast  and  fast 
In  the  thronged  city  ;  oft  of  townsmen  seen 
In  market  and  bazaar  ;  and,  by  their  mien 
Noted  for  lordliest  of  all  strangers  there, 
Much  whispered  of,  in  sooth,  as  who  saw  clear 
Shadows  of  times  to  come,  and  secrets  bright 
Writ  in  the  jewelled  cypher  of  the  Night. 
So  that  the  voice  of  this  to  Herod  went 
Feastful  and  fearful ;  ever  ill-content 
Mid  plots  and  perils  ;  girt  with  singing  boys, 
And  dancing  girls  of  Tyre,  and  armored  noise 
Of  Caesar's  legionaries.     Long  and  near, 
In  audience  hall,  each  dusky  wayfarer 
Questioned  he  of  their  knowledge,  and  the  Star, 
What  message  flashed  it  ?     Whether  near  or  far 
Would  rise  this  portent  of  a  Babe  to  reign 
King  of  the  Jews,  and  bring  a  crown  again 
To  weeping  Zion,  and  cast  forth  from  them 


AT    BETHLEHEM.  47 

The  Roman  scourge  ?     And  if  at  Bethlehem, 
As,  with  one  voice,  priests,  elders,  scribes  aver, 
Then,  let  them  thither  wend,  and  spy  the  stir. 
And  find  this  Babe,  and  come  anew  to  him, 
Declaring  where  the  Wonder.     "  Twas  his  whim  " 
Quotha  "to  be  of  fashion  with  the  stars, 
(Wear)^,  like  them,  of  gazing  upon  wars) 
To  shine  upon  this  suckling,  bending  knee 
Save  unto  Caesar  uncrooked  latterly." 

Thence  came  it  Those  Three  stood  at  entering 
Before  the  door  ;  and  their  rich  gifts  did  bring, 
Red  gold  from  the  Indian  rocks,  cunningly  beat 
To  plate  and  chalice,  with  old  fables  sweet 
Of  Buddh's  Compassion,  and  dark  Mara's  Powers 
Round  the  brims  glittering  ;  and  a  riot  of  flowers 
Done  on  the  gold,  with  gold  script  to  proclaim 
The  Noble  Truths,  and  Threefold  mystic  Name 
OM,  and  the  Swastika,  and  how  Man  wins 
Plessed  ^firvana's  rest,  being  quit  of  sins, 


48  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

And,  day  and  night,  reciting,  "  Oh,  the  Gem  ! 

Upon  the  Lotus  !     Oh  the  Lotus-stem  !" 

Also,  more  precious  than  much  gold,  they  poured 

Rare  spices  forth,  unknitting  cord  on  cord  ; 

And,  one  by  one,  unwinding  cloths,  as  though 

The  merchantmen  had  sought  to  shut  in  so 

The  breath  of  those  distillings  :  in  such  kind 

As  when  Nile's  black  embalming  slaves  would  bind 

Sindon  o'er  sindon,  cere-cloths,  cinglets,  bands 

Roll  after  roll,  on  head,  breast,  feet,  and  hands. 

Round  some  dead   King,  whose  cold   and  withered 

palm 
Had  dropped  the  sceptre  ;  drenched  with  musk  and 

balm. 
And  natron,  and  what  keeps  from  perishing  ; 
So  they  m.ight  save — after  long  wandering — 
The  body  for  the  spirit,  and  hold  fast 
Life's  likeness,  till  the  dead  man  lived  at  last. 
Thus,  from  their  coats  involved  of  leaves  and  silk, 
Slowly  they  freed  the  odorous  thorn-tree's  milk, 


In   His  Parents"   House. 

And   he   was  subject  unto  them:    (his  parents — I.rKK  II  :    51. 


^^•^    OF  THE         -^^ 

'tjsivbesity; 


AT    BETHLEHEM.  49 

The  grey  myrrh,  and  the  cassia,  and  the  spice, 

Filling  the  wind  with  frankincense  past  price, 

With  hearts  of  blossoms  from  a  hundred  glens 

And  essence  of  a  thousand  Rose-gardens, 

Till  the  Night's  gloom  like  a  royal  curtain  hung 

Jewelled  with  stars,  and  rich  with  fragrance  flung 

Athwart  the  arch  ;  and,  in  the  Cavern  there 

The  air  around  was  as  the  breathing-air 

Of  a  Queen's  chamber,  when  she  comes  to  bed, 

And  all  that  glad  Earth  owns  gives  gobdlihead. 

Witness  them  entering, — these  Three  from  afar — 
Who  knew  the  skies,  and  had  the  strange  white  Star 
To  light  their  nightly  lamp,  thro'  deserts  wide 
Of  Bactria,  and  the  Persic  wastes,  and  tide 
Of  Tigris  and  Euphrates  ;  past  the  snow 
Of  Ararat,  and  when  the  sand-wunds  blow 
O'er  Ituroea  ;  and  the  crimson  peaks 
Of  Moab,  and  the  fierce,  bright,  barren  reeks 
From  Asphaltities  ;  to  this  hill — to  thee 


50  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Bethlehem-Ephrata  !     Witness  these  Three 
Gaze,  hand  in  hand,  with  faces  grave  and  mild, 
Where,  'mid  the  gear  and  goats,  Mother  and  Child 
Make  state  and  splendor  for  their  eyes.     Then,  lay 
Each  stranger  on  the  earth,  in  the  Indian  way, 
Paying  the  "  eight  prostrations  ;  "  and  was  heard 
Saying  softly,  in  the  Indian  tongue,  that  word 
Wherewith  a  Prince  is  honored.     Humbly  ran, 
On  this,  the  people  of  their  caravan 
And  fetch  the  gold,  and — laid  on  gold — the  spice. 
Frankincense,  myrrh  :  and  next,  with  reverence  nice, 
Foreheads  in  dust,  they  spread  the  precious  things 
At  Mary's  feet,  and  worship  Him  who  clings 
To  Mary's  bosom  drinking  soft  life  so 
Who  shall  be  Life  and  Light  to  all  below. 
"  For,  now  we  see,"  say  they,  departing  :  "  plain 
The  Star's  word  comes  to  pass  !     The  Buddh  again 
Appeareth,  or  some  Boddhisat  of  might 
Arising  for  the  West,  who  shall  set  right. 
And  serve  and  reconcile  ;  and,  maybe,  teach 


AT    BETHLEHEM.  5 1 

Knowledge  to  those  who  know.     We,  Brothers,  each, 
Have  heard  yon  shepherds  babbling  :  if  the  sky 
Speaketh  with  such,  Heaven's  mercy  is  drawn  nigh  ! 
Well  did  we  counsel,  journeying  to  this  place  ! 
Yon  hour-old  Babe,  milking  that  breast  of  grace, 
The  World  will  praise  and  worship,  w^ell-content." 

Then,  fearing  Herod,  to  their  homes  they  went 
Musing  along  the  road.     But  he  alway 
Angered  and  troubled,  bade  his  soldiers  slay 
Whatever  man-child  sucked  in  Bethlehem. 
Lord  !  had'st  Thou  been  all  God,  as  pleaseth  them 
Who  poorly  see  Thy  Godlike  Self,  and  take 
True  glory  from  Thee  for  false  glory's  sake  : 
Co-equal  Power,  as  these — too  bold — blaspheme. 
Ruler  of  what  Thou  camest  to  redeem  ; 
Not  Babe  Divine,  feeling  with  touch  of  silk 
For  fountains  of  a  mortal  Mother's  milk 
With  sweet  mouth  buried  in  the  warm  feast  thus. 
And  dear  heart  growing  great  to  beat  for  us, 


52  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

And  soft  feet  waiting  till  the  way  was  spread 

Whereby  what  was  true  God  in  Thee  should  tread 

Triumphant  over  woe  and  death  to  bliss, — 

Thou,  from  Thy  cradle  would'st  have  stayed  in  this 

Those  butchers  !     With  one  Angel's  swift  decree. 

Out  of  the  silver  Cohorts  lackeying  Thee, 

Thou  had'st  thrust  down  the  bitter  Prince  who  killed 

Thine  innocents  !     Would'st  Thou   not  ?     Wast    not 

willed  ? 
Alas  !  **  Peace  and  Good-will  "  in  agony 
Found  first  fruits  !     Rama  heard  that  woeful  cry 
Of  Rachel  weeping  for  the  children  ;   lone, 
Uncomforted,  because  her  babes  are  gone. 
Herod  the  King  !  hast  thou  heard  Rachel's  wail 
Where  restitution  is  ?     Did  aught  avail 
Somewhere  ?  at  last  ?  past  life  ?  after  long  stress 
Of  heavy  shame  to  bring  forgetfulness  ? 
If  such  grace  be,  no  hopeless  sin  is  wrought  ; 
Thy  bloody  blade  missed  what  its  vile  edge  sought  ; 
Mother,  and  Child,  and  Joseph — safe  from  thee — 


AT   BETHLEHEM.  53 

Journey  to  Egypt,  while  the  Eastern  Three 
Wind  homewards,  lightened  of  their  spice  and  gold; 
And  those  great  days,  that  were  to  be,  unfold 
In  the  fair  fields  beside  the  shining  Sea 
Which  rolls,  'mici  palms  and  rocks,  in  Galilee; 
As  I — if  I  have  grace — hereafter  sing, 
Telling  the  dream  which  came  about  this  thing, 
What  time,  with  reverent  feet,  I  wandered  there 
Treading   Christ's    ground,   and    breathing   Christ's 
sweet  air. 


Book  1. 


MARY  MAGDALENE. 


Clear  silver  water  in  a  cup  of  gold, 

Under  the  sunlit  steeps  of  Gadara, 

It  shines — His  Lake — the  sea  of  Chinnereth — 

The  waves  He  loved,  the  waves  that  kissed  His  feet 

So  many  blessed  days.     Oh,  happy  waves  ! 

Oh,  little,  silver,  happy  sea,  far-famed, 

Under  the  sunlit  steeps  of  Gadara  ! 

Fair  is  the  scene  still,  tho'  the  grace  is  gone 
Of  those  great  times  when  nine  white  cities  dipped 
Their  walls  into  its  brink,  and  steel-shod  keels 
Of  Roman  galleys  ground  its  sparkling  sands  ; 
55 


56  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

And  Herod's  painted  pinnaces,  ablaze 

With  lamps,  and  brazen  shields  and  spangled  slaves, 

Came  and  went  lordly  at  Tiberias  ; 

And  merchant-ships  of  Ghoe,  and  fisher-boats, 

From  green  Bethsaida  and  Chorazin  drove 

Pearl-furrows  in  the  sapphire  of  its  sleep  : 

And,  by  its  beach, — where  the  cranes  wade  mid-leg. 

And  long  reeds  lisp  ;  and  milky  ripples  roll 

The  purple-banded  shells  ;  and  wind-fall'n  flowers 

Of  date  and  oleander  dye  the  rim 

Of  blown  foam  rosy — wended  by,  league-long, 

The  caravans  of  Egypt,  treasure-stuffed. 

To  proud  Damascus,  or  thronged  Sepphoris, 

Or  Accho's  quays.     Or,  Caesar's  spearmen  rode 

Terrible  with  the  eagles,  bringing  news 

Of  life  and  death  from  Rome.     Or  strode  austere. 

Contemptuous,  flaunting  phylacteries, 

The  Pharisee  and  Scribe.     Or,  noise  of  slaves 

Sweating  beneath  the  litter's  gilded  poles, 

Told  where  there  passed  some  languid  Palace  dame 


MARY    MAGDALENE.  57 

Fresh  from  the  bath  ;  or  proctor,  girt  with  rods  : 
Or  there  went  by,  upon  its  rocky  brim. 
The  high-capped  Median  bringing  stallions  in, 
The  Indian  traders  with  the  spice  and  silk. 
The  negro-men  from  Cush,  and  Elamites, 
And  Red-sea  sailors  ;  and  from  shores  of  Nile 
The  blue-gowned  swart  Egyptian  ;  for  they  filled 
From  all  Earth's  regions,  in  those  bygone  days, 
The  path-ways  by  its  waters  ! — frequent  feet 
Of  Tyrian  traders,  and  dark  Desert-men 
Rocking  upon  their  camels,  with  wild  eyes 
Glittering  like  lance-points  ;  and  Sidonians, 
Syrians  and  Greeks  and  Jews  ;  a  motley  world 
Treading  th'  enameled  borders,  where  the  Vines 
Ran  clustering,  and  the  almond's  crimson  snow 
Rained  upon  crocus,  lily,  and  cyclamen 
At  feet  of  feathery  palms,  and  tamarisks 
Alive  with  doves  and  steel-bright  halcyons. 
And  green  and  rich  rose  then  the  terraced  fields 
This  coast  and  that ;  and  loud  the  water-wheels 


58  THE    LIGHT    OF   THE   WORLD. 

Poured  the  cool  crystal  of  the  stream  and  lake 

Over  a  thousand  gardens  ;  and  an  air 

Fresher    than     now — with     breath     of    moistened 

growths — 
Pomegranate,  citron,  fig — tempered  the  heats 
Blown  from  the  wilderness  ;  and,  more  than  now, 
Beauteous    the    mountains    soared,    with    girdling 

woods, 
Homesteads  and  villages,  and  melon-fields 
Hanging  between  the  rocks,  and  side  by  side. 
Temples  of  Jove  and  Pan,  with  synagogues 
Of  Israel's  Jah.     But,  opening  then,  as  now. 
To  let  swift  Jordan  stay  his  eager  flood 
Under  their  sunny  peaks,  foregoing  there 
The  speed  he  took  from  Hermon  ;  glad  to  spread 
Broadened  to  lake,  fringed  with  wild  figs  and  flags, 
Peopled  with  pelicans  and  fish  ;  and  fain 
A  little  to  forget  how  he  must  glide 
From  river  into  bitter,  barren  mere, 
Must  pass,  from  waving  willows,  and  cold  nooks 


MARY    MAGDALENE.  59 

Of  water-lilies,  to  lie  salt  and  dead, 

Sucked  by  the  Sun,  under  hot  Edom's  crags, 

In  that  red  hollow  of  the  Sea  of  Lot. 

Now  all  is  changed — all  save  the  changeless  things — 
The  mountains,  and  the  waters,  and  the  sky — 
These,  as  He  saw  them,  have  their  glory  yet 
At  sunrise,  and  at  sunset  ;  and  when  noon 
Burns  the  blue  vault  into  a  cope  of  gold. 
And  ofttimes,  in  the  Syrian  Spring,  steals  back 
Well-nigh  the  ancient  beauty  to  those  coasts 
Where  Christ's  feet  trod.     That  lily  which  He  loved 
And  praised  for  splendor  passing  Solomon's — 
The  scarlet  martagon — decks  herself  still. 
Mindful  of  His  high  words,  in  red  and  gold, 
To  meet  the  step  of  Summer.     Cyclamens 
Lift  their  pale  heads  to  see  if  He  will  pass; 
And  Amaryllis  and  white  hyacinths 
Pour  from  their  pearly  vases  spikenard  forth, 
Lest  He  should  come  unhonored.     In  His  paths 


6o  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE   WORLD. 

Still,  as  of  old,  the  lowly  crocus  spreads 
A  golden  carpet  for  Him  ;  and  the  birds — 
Small  almoners  of  Heaven — as  once  He  said — 
Who  fall  not  unregarded — trill  their  hymns 
Of  lively  love  and  thanks  in  every  thorn. 
Only  what  Man  could  do,  Man  hath  well  done 
To  blot  with  blood  and  tears  His  track  divine, 
To  sweep  His  holy  footsteps  from  His  earth. 
In  steel  and  gold,  splendid  and  strong  and  fierce, 
Host  after  host  under  that  Mount  has  marched 
Where  He  sate  saying  :  "  Blessed  the  peace  makers  !" 
In  rage  and  hatred  host  with  host  has  clashed 
There  where  He  taught  "  Love  ye  your  enemies  !  " 
Banners  which  bore  His  cross,  have  mocked  His  cross, 
Scattering  His  land  with  slain  ;  till  now,  at  last, 
Truly  the  sword,  not  peace,  is  what  He  brought ! 
For  love  of  Him  nation  hates  nation  so 
That  at  His  shrine  the  watchful  Islamite 
Guards  Christian  throats  !     Dead  lie  His   once  fair 
fields ; 


MARY    MAGDALENE.  6l 

Barren  the  fallows  where  His  sower  sowed  ; 

None  reaps  the  silver  harvests  of  His  sea  ; 

None  in  the  wheat-row  roots  the  ill  tares  out. 

The  hungry  land  gasps  empty  in  the  glare  ; 

The  vulture's  self  goes  famished  ;  the  wolf  prowls 

Fasting,  amid  the  broken  stones  which  built 

The  cities  of  His  sojourn.     Wild  birds  nest 

Where  revels  once  were  loudest.     All  are  gone 

Save  for  those  names  never  to  pass  away, 

Capernaum,  Bethsaida,  Magdala, — 

The  nine  white  towns  that  sate  beside  His  Lake. 

Vanished  the  stately  stoas,  lofty  fanes  ; 

Vanished  the  walls,  the  towers,  the  citadels  ! 

Titus  and  Omar  wrought  fair  Palestine 

No  hurt  like  His  who  gave  her  hallowed  ground 

The  fatal  benediction  of  His  feet ! 

Love's  house  is  desolate  for  love  of  Love  ! 

The  waters  glass  no  sail ;  the  ways  have  shrunk 

Into  a  camel-path  ;  the  centuries 

With  flood  and  blast  have  torn  the  terrace  bare 


62  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Where  the  fox  littered  in  the  grapes.     Ask  not 

Which  was  His  city  'mid  this  ruined  life  ! 

None  surely  knoweth  of  Capernaum 

Whether  'twas  here,  or  there.     Perchance  He  dwelt 

Longest  and  latest  at  this  nameless  mound 

Where,  on  the  broken  column,  nests  the  stork  ; 

Where  knot-grass  with  its  spikes,  and  bitter  balls 

Of  trailing  colocynth,  and  nebbuk-thorns 

Bind  as  they  will  the  marble  wreck,  and  weave 

Shelter  for  shy  jerboas,  and  the  snake. 

So  still,  so  far  away,  so  quite  forsook 

His  city's  burial-place,  the  painted  grouse 

Lays  her  eggs  there  in  carved  acanthus-leaves 

And  crickets  chirp  where  Caesar's  year  is  writ ! 

Yon  Arab,  with  the  matchlock  and  the  spear, 

Glancing  askance — for  Afreets  haunt  the  spot — 

Murmurs  ;  "  Peace  be  to  you  !  this  is  Tell-HCim  !  " 

Desolate  most  of  all,  with  one  starved  palm 
And  huddle  of  sad  squalid  hovels,  thou 
El-Mejdel  !  burned  a-dry  beneath  black  crags  ; 


MARY    MAGDALENE.  6;^ 

Choked  with  thick  sand,  comfortless,  poor,  despised, 
Who  stretched  beforetimes  to  the  adjacent  Lake 
Proud  fortress-arms,  and — Lady  of  the  plain — 
Holding  the  keys  of  glad  Gennessaret, 
Took  tribute  of  all  passers.     Vainly  praised 
For  thy  strong  Tower, — soaring  so  high,  now  laid 
Lost  in  the  dust — yet  wert  thou  marked  to  live. 
Stamped  for  immortal  memory  by  one  Name, 
Hers  who  "loved  much,"  and  had  her  home  in  thee, 
Mary  of  Magdala. 

**  There  'twas  I  saw, 
Or  seemed  to  see,  that  night  in  Palestine, 
Lodging  in  Mejdel,  what  is  written  now  ; 
Lodging  at  Mejdel  on  a  night  of  balm 
When  all  the  stars  on  high  had  sister-stars 
Mirrored  in  Galilee's  dark  purple  tide  ; 
And  the  land  lay  a-dream  it  lived  again  ; 
And  all  the  past  rolled  back,  and  out  of  Heaven 
Almost  the  fancy  dared  to  hear  that  song  : 


64  the  light  of  the  world. 

Peace  beginning  to  be, 
Deep  as  the  sleep  of  the  sea 

When  the  stars  their  still  gleams  glass 
In  its  blue  tranquillity: 
Hearts  of  all  upon  earth 
From  the  first  to  the  second  birth 

To  rest  as  the  wild  waters  rest 

With  colors  of  Heaven  on  their  breast. 
Love  which  is  sunlight  of  peace 
Age  by  age  to  increase, 

Till  anger  and  hatred  are  dead, 

And  sorrow  and  death  shall  cease  : 
*'  Peace  on  earth  and  good-will  !  " 
Souls  that  are  gentle  and  still 
Hear  the  first  music  of  this 
Far  off  infinite  bliss  ! 


In  the  Temple. 

And  all  that  heard  him  were  amaz^-d  at  his  umlerstaiRliiig  ana  his  answers.  —  I.i'Ki'  1 1  :   47 


^^  OF  THE 

ivbrsityI 


MARY    MAGDALENE,  65 

The  third  Spring  after  Jesus  Christ  had  passed  ; 
In  the  fifth  moon,  when  Galilee  is  green, 
And  the  palm  shakes  fresh  feathers  to  the  wind, 
Came  through  the  gates  of  Magdala,  at  eve, 
Spearmen  and  swordsmen,  and,  on  armored  steeds. 
The  Roman  Knights,  and  lictors  with  their  rods  ; 
The  train  of  Pontius  Pilate,  moving  north 
To  answer,  before  Caesar,  wrongs  alleged 
In  rescript  of  the  Lord  Vitellius, 
Legate  of  Syria.     On  Gerizim's  height 
Grievously  had  he  broke  Samaria, 
Chastising  well,  at  first,  rebellious  folk  ; 
But  in  his  after  wrath, — it  was  put  forth — 
He  wronged  the  clemency  of  Rome,  and  wrought 
Treason  to  Caesar.     '*  Therefore  must  he  go 
To  meet  at  throne-steps  of  Tiberius 
Those  his  accusers  " — wrote  Vitellius  : 
Thus  'twas  the  Procurator  wended  north. 

And,  because  by  the  margin  of  the  Lake 


66  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

The  wind  swept  cold,  th'  Imperial  Relegate 

Would  that  night,  with  his  wife,  lie  in  the  walls. 

Thereat  rose  question  where  in  Magdala 

Meet  room  was  for  a  Roman  Consular 

Of  the  high  Samnite  race  of  Telesine, 

Judaea's  Governor,  thro'  ten  strong  years, 

And,  may  be,  yet  to  rule  all  Syria 

If  Caesar  purges.     Also,  for  his  spouse 

Procula  ;  from  the  Claudian  line  ;  ill-apt 

To  couch  patrician  limbs  in  leathern  tent, — 

Reared  to  the  ivory  and  the  gold, — or  share 

Peasant's  coarse  shelter.     And  the  townsmen  said  : 

"  One  house  we  have  where  this  great  Lord  might 

lie, 
Between  the  walls  of  Magdala — might  halt 
Well-honored.     'Tis  the  Lady  Miriam's 
Who  dwelleth  yonder  by  the  north  Sea-gate, 
That  stone  Khan,  with  the  carved  door  and  the  palms. 
Many  fair  chambers,  and  a  garden-court 
With  marbles  paved  and  falling  waters  'freshed 


MARY    MAGDALENE.  6^ 

And  cedar-work  from  Tyre,  and  well-girt  slaves, 
The  Roman  there  shall  find." 

So  it  befell 
That  Pilate  lodged  with  Mary  Magdalene. 

And  there  were  those  who  heard  what  Pilate  spake 
Upon  the  leewan  leaning  sad  that  night, 
Unlulled  by  lute,  or  Syrian  dance,  or  plash 
Of  fountains  tinkling  on  the  painted  stones. 
For  sleep  came  not ;  and  she,  beside  him,  said — 
Claudia  Procula —     "  My  Lord  doeth  ill 
To  keep  sick  vigil,  when  soft  beds  are  spread, 
And  guards  are  set,  and  even  Galilee 
Lends  so  fair  shelter  that  henceforth  in  Rome 
We  shall  think  gentlier  of  th'  injurious  land." 
"  In  Rome  ?    ah  Rome  !  "  stern  Pontius  cried  :   "  but 

Rome 
Held  not  my  thought,  great  Claudia  !  nor  these  hogs 
We  herded  with  our  spear-points,  pricking  them 


68  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Time  after  time  to  grunt.     Caesar  is  just, 

And  Caesar  will  not  judge  me  heedlessly— 

Friend  of  Sejanus,  and  for  ten  years,  here, 

Keeping  the  heel  of  Rome  on  Herod's  neck — 

At  word  of  vile  Samaritans.     But  I 

All  day  long,  as  we  rode  out  from  the  plain 

Of  Esdraelon — from  Samaria 

To  Nazareth,  and  threading  Nazareth, 

With  horse  and  foot  and  litters,  clattered  on 

Under  the  horns  of  Hattin,  and  so  down, 

Through  that  dark-shadowed  Valley  of  the  Dove, 

To  this  green  hollow  where  the  Jordan  gains 

Peace  for  a  day  before  he  hastens  on 

To  foam  and  fret  and  die — as  rivers  die, 

And  men  die — helplessly  ;  I  had  in  mind 

The  Man  I  did  adjudge  unrighteously. 

Know'st  thou,  fair  wife  !  that  was  his  dwelling-place, 

The  poor,  white,  clustered  town  amid  the  hills 

Where  we  clomb  up  from  Kishon,  and  you  saw 

The  hoopooes  run  in  the  rye — Solomon's  birds, 


MARY   MAGDALENE.  69 

Which  knew  the  Name  of  God  ! — Would  I  had  known 

On  that  ill  day  at  the  Praetorium  ! 

By  Pan  !  I  tell  thee  all  the  way  he  came, 

The  pale,  sweet  Man  ;  the  Man  that  was  *  the  King,' 

And  did  adjudge  us,  his  judiciaries. 

I  saw  him  at  Gerizim,  where  I  smote 

Those  dogs  of  Sychar — very  pitiful 

Marking  the  blood.     And,  then,  as  if  he  paced 

Effortless  over  bare  Gilboa,  'twas  he 

Gazed  at  me  at  Megiddo,  and  Jezreel ; 

And  Shunem  and  Chesulloth,  always  pale, 

Always  with  that  high  look  of  godlike  calm, 

Those  eyes  of  far  perception — those  mild  eyes 

I  saw  that  Morn  in  the  Praetorium. 

Accursed  morn  ! — more  in  my  thoughts  than  Rome ! 

When  Sanhedrists  and  Priests,  with  Caiaphas 

To  lead  the  learned  rabble,  broke  my  sleep, 

And  brought,  that  I  should  doom  him,  that  one  man 

Whom,  of  all  Jews,  I  hated  not,  nor  scorned. 

And  when  I  asked  *  What  accusation 


70  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Have  ye  against  this  one  ?'  and  bade  them  judge 
According  to  their  law  (which — under  Rome — 
Held  no  more  power  to  kill),  they,  wanting  blood, 
Must  have  me  hear  how  he  perverted  minds, 
Decried  our  tax,  would  pull  the  Temple  down, 
And  make  himself  a  King.     'Sooth  !  to  make  Kings, 
And  unmake,  was  for  Caesar's  self  alone  ; 
Wherefore,  to  keep  unbroke  our  Roman  peace. 
And  yet  to  spare  this  man,  I  led  him  in 
Away  from  those  that  clamored,  to  my  hall. 
Thinking  to  clear  him,  when  his  trembling  lips, 
Inside  the  Agrippeum,  gave  me  ground 
To  make  it  good  at  Rome,  and  guard  the  peace. 
Yet  choke  those  hounds  from  their  most  innocent  prey. 
But,  as  I  questioned  him  upon  these  things. 
And  asked  :  '  Art  thou  indeed  the  King  of  the  Jews  ?' 
Lo  !  he,  with  such  a  mien  as  one  should  have 
Wearing  the  purple,  spake  full  royally, 
*  Aye  !  as  thou  sayest,  a  King  ! '  and  no  word  more  ! 
Still  I  went  on  :  *  Speakest  thou  nought  to  me 


MARY    MAGDALENE.  7  I 

Whose  nod  can  send  thee  hence  to  live  or  die  ? 

Art  thou  King  of  the  Jews? '     And  the  man  said, 

*  Yea  !  King  !  yet  not  of  any  earthly  realm  : 

To  this  end  was  I  born,  and  therefore  came 

King  of  all  Kings,  because  I  witness  Truth.' 

Then    asked    I  :    '  What   is   Truth  ? '      He   answered 

nought ; 
Or  I  was  wroth,  and  hearkened  not  :  hot  scorn 
Shook  me  to  hear  that  horde  of  circumcised 
Howling  for  blood  outside  my  Palace-gates. 
So,  yet  anew,  thinking  to  stay  their  lust 
With  some  ignoble  gobbet,  I  came  forth 
And  from  my  Bema  spake  :  *  Ye  have  the  right 
Now,  at  your  Passover,  that  I  release 
Some  one  condemned  :  See  !  I  set  this  man  free ; 
And  give  for  your  good  sport  another  prey 
Also  called  Jesus — Jesus  Bar  Rabban  !  ' 
The  vile  herd  shouted  :  *  Set  us  free  the  thief  ! '  " 

And  Claudia  moaned  :  "  I,  too,  remember  well  ! 


72  THE    LIGHT    OF   THE    WORLD. 

I  saw  Him  from  my  lattice,  and  His  eyes 

Burned  themselves  on  my  heart.     Truly  a  King 

Of  Truth — if  anywhere  such  kingdom  be  !  " 

"  By  Hercules  !  "     The  Roman  yet  went  on — 

"  I  would  that  I  had  hearkened,  asking  that 

Which  none  hath  answered,  not  the  Samian  ; 

Nor  he  of  Citium  ;  nor  the  oracles  ; 

Nor  any  augur  out  of  any  bird  ; 

Nor  the  high  Flamens,  nor  dread  Jove  himself. 

Who  knows  whence  gleamed  the  fire  of  those  strange 

eyes 
Which  had  no  fear,  nor  any  bitterness, 
But  seemed  to  look  beyond  us,  glad  to  die  ? 
They  drove  me  forth  again,  angry  and  sick, 
Crying  :  '  I  find  no  fault  in  him,  at  all ! ' " 

And  Claudia  sighed  :  "  There  was  no  fault,  at  all !  " 

"Thence  sent  I  him  to  Antipas.     That  fox 
Worried  with  claws  of  spite  my  patient  one, 


MARY    MAGDALENE.  73 

But  would  not  bite.     So  came  he  back  to  me  : 

And — sitting  there  upon  the  Gabbatha, 

With  Rome  and  Justice  by — I  might  have  saved  ! 

What  was  for  me  to  fear  !     Thrice  before  that, — 

Once,  when  I  brought  the  silver  eagles  in, 

Though  all  Jerusalem  yelled  at  my  gates  ; 

Once,  when  I  spent  those  pious  shekels,  stored 

In  their  most  holy  treasury,  to  fetch 

Fair  water  from  the  Pools  of  Solomon, 

That  they  might  drink  clean  swill  ;  and  once  again, 

When  I  hung  up,  in  the  Herodeum, 

The  guilded  shields  of  Caesar  ;  I  did  set 

These  Jewish  swine  at  nought.     But  then,  oh,  then  ! 

I  faltered,  paltered,  yielded  ;  Claudia  !  yea, 

I  played  worse  traitor  to  my  Roman  soul 

Than  aught  e'er  done  to  Caesar.     I,  who  read 

That  daybreak,  on  my  scroll,  how  Socrates — 

In  the  sweet  Greek — with  lofty  scorn  of  life — 

Condemned  th'  Athenian  Judges  to  live  on. 

And  took,  triumphant,  from  their  guilty  lips. 


74  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Gift  of  his  hemlock  !  Oh,  thou  great,  grave  face! 

That  journey'dst  with  me  all  this  mindful  day, 

Amid  thy  watching  hills  of  Galilee  ; 

Why  did'st  thou  not  reply  ?     I  might  have  saved  ! 

Why  would'st  thou  not  reply?     I  would  have  saved  ! 

Moreover,  Wife  !  did'st  thou  not  send  to  me — 

Me,  whom  my  Father  told  of  Julius, 

And  how  he  bled,  and  how  Calphurnia  dreamed — 

That  message  of  thy  vision,  saying,  '  Lord  ! 

Deal  thou  in  nothing  with  that  innocent  one, 

For  I  have  suffered  much  in  sleep  this  night 

Because  of  him?'" 

And  Claudia  answered  :  "  Aye  ! 
I  sent  thee  word :  for,  in  the  morning  watch, 
When  dreams  glide  truest  thro'  sleep's  gate  of  horn, 
There  came  upon  mine  eyes,  in  slumber  sealed, 
Shadow  or  semblance  of  the  fairest  form, 
Presence  most  sweet  and  most  majestical. 
Seen  amongst  men.     Nay,  not  of  men  it  seemed. 


MARY    MAGDALENE.  75 

For  white  Apollo,  in  our  atrium, 

Wrought  of  the  Thracian  marble,  was  to  this — 

The  high  gods  pardon  !  — but  a  satyr  !  Blood 

Crimsoned  his  brow  in  beaded  drops,  from  where 

A  crown  of  thorns  pricked  deep  ;  and  bloody  holes 

Marked  either  opened  palm,  and  either  foot; 

Yet,  by  the  exceeding  gladness  of  His  face, 

By  His  assured,  benign  serenity, 

These  were,  I  knew,  to  some  royal  rights  He  had 

But  as  imperial  purple.     Ah,  the  ray 

Shed  from  those  gentle  eyes  flushed  my  stilled  soul 

With  such  a  glow  of  glory,  such  delight 

Of  sudden  seeing,  as  if  I  had  been 

An  Apennine,  touched  singly  by  the  Sun, 

Dyed  rose-red  by  some  earliest  shaft  of  Dawn, 

While  all  the  other- peaks  were  dark,  and  slept. 

But  soon  my  greatness  faded  ;  while  I  stretched 

Eager  quick  hands  of  worship  unto  Him, 

And  fell  upon  my  knees,  for  love,  and  fear, 

And  reverence,  and  wonder  ;  lo  !  He  spake 


76  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Solemnly,  and  in  accent  known,  it  seemed, 

More  to  my  heart  than  ear  ;  not  in  our  tongue, 

Nor  any  tongue,  except  what  stars,  and  seas, 

And  the  low  voice  of  Night  will  sometimes  use  ; 

Saying  full  mildly — or  He  seemed  to  say  : — 

*  This  morn,  thy  Lord — if  Heaven's  way  changeth  not^ 

Will  wrongfully  adjudge  Me  unto  death 

Who  am  the  Lover  of  Men,  of  him,  thee,  all, 

And  come  to  be  Beginning  of  a  Time 

When  Peace  shall  reign  and  men  see  angels  near. 

And  perfect  Love  shall  cast  out  Fear,  which  hath 

The  torment.     But,  not  knowing  well  of  this, 

They,  of  whose  blood  I  am,  will  spill  my  blood  ; 

And  he,  if  this  dream  help  not,  shall  abet 

Delivering  Me  to  die  upon  the  Cross 

For  policy  and  Caesar's  Roman  peace. 

Whence,  for  all  flesh  deliverance,  and  the  Light ; 

But  for  thee  tears  and  woe,  and  for  thy  Lord 

The  burden  of  a  shame  sinking  his  soul ; 

The  burden  of  a  name,  intolerable, 


MARY    MAGDALENE.  77 

Accurst  thro'  all  the  Ages,  hated,  scorned, 
Long  after  I  forgive  and  comfort  him. 
Wake  from  thy  sleep,  then  ;  bid  him  list  to  thee 
Saying  what  I  have  said  ! '  " 

**  So,  with  a  start, 
I  brake  the  bonds  of  slumber,  and  I  heard, — 
In  place  of  that  sweet  voice,  majestic,  calm, 
Making  my  terror  tender — angry  roars 
As  if  of  hungered  beasts  ;  men  who  cried  out 
'  Crucify  this  one  ;  free  us  Bar-Rabban  ! ' 
And,  drawing  nigh  my  latticed  window,  saw 
Oh,  Jove  !     Him  of  my  Vision,  passing  down 
Godlike,  but  not  yet  crowned  with  cruel  thorns, 
Nor  pierced  in  hand  or  foot.     What  shall  it  mean  ? 
Was  that — the  Syrian  with  those  searching  eyes — 
My  Warner  in  the  dream  ?     Trembling  to  see, 
I  snatched  my  tablets,  drove  the  point  i'  the  wax 
Hasteful,  as  thou  didst  note  ;  and  wrote  the  word. 
Eheu  !     Thou  would'st  not  heed  ! " 


78  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

And  Pontius  bent 
His   proud   brows   down,   and  muttered  :    "  On    my 

heart 
Thy  stylus  pricked — but  vainly  !  Caesar's  wrath 
Were  but  the  idle  wind  which  stirs  my  hair 
If  I  had  only  back  that  Man,  that  hour ! 
Forever  and  forever  have  they  passed  ; 
And  now,  and.  yesterday,  and  all  my  days 
Something  which  is  not  shame,  and  is  not  grief, 
Nor  womanish  tenderness  at  blood  and  death — 
Being  soldier  as  I  am  not  apt  to  melt — 
Nor  penitence,  strange  to  my  Stoic  mind 
Which  knows  what  hath    been,  must  be  ; — but    the 

pang 
Of  a  strong  spirit  that  betrayed  itself  ; 
Rage  for  the  act  reflection  pardons  not  ; 
The  sting  of  playing  slave  to  Destiny, 
Bite  at  my  soul  more  sharp  than  fangs  of  those  ; 
Whisper,  as  though  to  mock  me  from  myself. 
Mine  own  past  words,  the  words  I  flung  at  them — 


MARY    MAGDALENE.  79 

'That  which  is  writ,  is  writ!'     Thou   wottest  what 

fell  : 
The  Patient  One  who  came  to  witness  Truth, 
To  rule  without  a  throne — without,  just  gods  ! 
The  Purple,  or  the  Eagles,  or  the  Spears — 
Stood   on    my    Paved   Way,    with    their   Cut-throat, 

there, 
Side  by  side,  nowise  blenching  ;  while  they  picked 
A  life  to  grace  their  festival.     Thou  knowest 
They  chose  Bar-Rabban.     Thereupon  I  asked 
'  What  will  ye  that  I  do  with  this  your  King  ? ' 
They  howled  '  the  Cross  !  the  Cross  !  '  and  I  let  go 
Their  leash  ;  and  He  was  scourged,  and  mocked,  and 

decked, 
With    that   sharp   crown  thou  sawest — gemmed  with 

blood. 
As  I  do  sadly  mind — and  o'er  his  back 
Some  evil-witted  Hebrew  flung,  in  spite, 
A  red  paludamentum — laticlave 
To  robe  his  sovereignty.     Yet,  even  thus, — 


8o  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Sick  at  the  midriff  with  my  wrath — I  stood ! 
Something  I  risked  to  save  myself  and  Him. 
'Twas   while    they   clamored  :    *  Give  the    Man     for 

death  ! 
'Tis  due  !     He  made  himself  a  Son  of  God  ! ' 
Was  't,  then,  Apollo,  masqueing  here  below  ? 
Or  some  Olympian  ?  great  Latona's  son 
At  play-games  'midst  us?  and  we  scourging  Him 
That  should  have  reared  the  altars  ?    On  such  thought 
Fain  had  I  learned  from  those  unlying  lips 
What  it  might  mean  ;  and  drew  Him  in  again 
To    private    speech,    and    questioned :    '  whence    art 

thou  ?' 
No  answer  did  he  deign,  till  I  had  stormed  : 
*  Answerest  me  nought,  who  have  the  power  of  thee  ? ' 
High  Jove  !  but  then  He  answered,  stripping  me, 
With  sweet  commanding  scorn,  of  pride  and  might, 
And  making  me  and  Caesar,  and  our  whips, 
Blind  bondsmen  to  some  dread  decree  He  knew 
Driving  us,  like  the  Moon  which  drags  the  tides, 


When    He  Rebuked. 


K     OF  THE         • 

'TJNIVERSIT71 


MARY    MAGDALENE.  8l 

Helpless!}'  up  and  down  the  beach  of  things. 

*  Thou  hast '  quoth  He  '  no  power  of  me  at  all 

Except  it  had  been  given  thee  from  above  ; 

Therefore  is  thy  sin  lighter  ! '     See'st  thou,  Wife  ? 

Here  was  thy  Galilaean  pitied  me  ! 

Found  for  his  hangman  pleas  !     At  that  fresh  speech 

Stamping  Him  praetor,  me  His  prisoner, 

I  had  more  will  to  ransom  ;  and  I  spake. 

Leading  Him  forth  again  ;  '  He  is  your  King  ! ' 

Harshly  they  hooted,  '  Caesar  is  our  King  ! 

No  King  save  Caesar  !  If  thou  let  him  go 

Thou  art  not  Caesar's  Friend  !  '     'Twas  there  I  failed  ! 

They  held  so  much  against  me  ;  many  griefs  ; 

The  last,  that  blood  I  mingled, — over-hot, — 

With  the  fools'  sacrifice.     And,  then,  at  Rome 

Our  Emperor  nursed  some  grudges.      Nigh  to  fall 

Was  great  Sejanus  ;  and  those  Roman  streets 

To  see  the  statues  haled  to  the  melting  pot, 

That  kitchen  wenches  might  have  pans  and  plates 

From  him  that  had  stood  second  in  our  World. 


82  THE   LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

I  did  not  dare  !  the  knaves  my  firm  soul  struck 

Through  that  one  corselet-joint  I  could  not  patch  ; 

I  did  not  dare  !  Me  miserum  !  I  took 

Water,  and  washed  my  hands  before  the  herd, 

And  cried  :  '  The  blame  of  this  just  blood  be  yours  !' 

The  rabble  answered  :  '  Yea  !  on  us,  on  us, 

And  on  our  children  be  His  blood  !  '     Oh,  Dis  ! 

Grave  those  words  deep  on  thy  dark  muniments, 

If  Hades  be,  and  black  assizes  sit. 

That,  age  by  age,  yon  Hebrew  priests  may  pay 

Fair  share  of  my  accompt !  I  could  not  wash 

My  conscience  clean  !     The  water,  to  my  eyes. 

Ran  foul  and  grimy  to  the  golden  bowl 

From  each  palm,  vainly  laved.     So  did  He  pass 

To  lofty  death,  and  I  to  life  defamed. 

What  can  they  do,  who  hate  me  most,  at  Rome 

One  little  part  as  deadly  as  this  hurt 

I  wrought  against  myself  ? " 

And  Claudia  groaned  : 


MARY    MAGDALENE.  83 

"  He  passed  'mid  many  portents — it  was  told. 
Folks  spake  of  darkness,  earthquakes  ;  in  the  midst 
Of  their  proud  Temple — in  the  Adytum — 
The  veil  suddenly  rent  ; — of  cries  to  Heaven 
Uttered  and  that  way  answered.     Didst  thou  hear 
The  talk  ran  that  He  had  not  died  at  all, 
Or,  dying,  glided  back  to  life  again  ; 
Was  seen  ;  ate,  drank,  walked,  talked, — Man  among 

men — 
Or  if  not  man  (which  could  not  be  !)  then  shape, 
Larva,  or  Lemur,  or  some  unnamed  Thing, 
Visible,  seeming  whatsoe'er  Life  seems  ; 
And,  lastly,   'scaped  from  sight  ?     Those  whom   He 

left, 
A  band  of  honest  ones,  give  stoutly  forth 
He  was  caught  up  in  clouds,  snatched  to  the  Blue, 
And,  day  by  day,  my  slave-girls  say,  this  grows, — 
Making  a  sect,  which  hath  no  dread  of  Death  ; 
But   will  spend  life  and  breath  and  gold  and  pains 
To  succor  any  wretch  ;  because  they  hold 


84  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

This  *  Christ '  did  die  for  him — grows,  good  my  Lord  ! 
Not  only  here  but  in  the  coasts,  and  Isles  ; 
A.nd  toucheth  Athens,  and  hath  crept  to  Rome." 

"  There,   too  ? "   broke    Pontius,    '*  must   I    find   at 
Rome, — 
Despite  the  stony  tomb,  the  guards  we  set, 
My  soldier's  word,  the  spear,  stabbed  socket-deep, — 
That  face  which  fills  each  night  with  dreams  for  me  ? 
Will  He  run  over-sea  whose  tireless  step 
Outstrips  my  swiftest  war-horse,  mends  my  stride 
On  every  march,  pitches  my  camp  with  me. 
Sits  with  me  in  my  tent,  my  judgment-hall, 
My  banquet-room,  my  bed-place  ?  watches  me 
With  those  great  eyes  which  do  not  hate  or  blast, 
But  send  a  keen  light  to  my  inmost  self 
Where  I  read  :  '  This  is  Pontius,  Fortune's  slave. 
For  Caesar's  fear.'      Sooth  !  why  should  I  have  played 
Butcher  to  Caiaphas  ?  Note,  Claudia  ! 
That  blood  of  Julius,  spilt  to  enfranchise  Rome, 


MARY    MAGDALENE.  85 

Bequeathed  Augustus  and  Tiberius  ; 

And  this  pure  blood,  behke,  soon  in  Death's  field, 

May  breed  a  different  crop  from  peace  and  ease. 

Things  fall  so  wry  with  earth,  sometimes  I  think 

Thy  Galilaean  erred  not  ;  that  men's  powers 

Are  lent  them  out  of  some  Imperium, 

Shadowy,  majestic,  unopposable, 

Wronging  all  wrongers  till  they  render  right, 

'Stablished   behind  the  Thrones  ;  where   Fates  pipe 

blows. 
And  we  must  dance  the  step,  or  be  shoved  by. 
Know  any  of  ye  here  of  any  wight 
Who  loved  this  Nazarene,  and  followed  Him, 
And  cleaves,  distraught,  to  such  wild  fancy  yet 
That  Cross,  and  spear,  and  gravestone  did  not  end  ?  " 

"  Great  Sir !  "  a  Syrian  handmaid  gave  reply  : 
"  This  is  the  house  is  called  '  Megaddela's,' 
Named,  as  some  will,  from  Magdal,  where  we  lie ; 
And  others  from  the  braided  locks  she  wore 


86  THE   LIGHT   OF   THE   WORLD. 

Who  lives  House-mistress  here  ; — the  long  hair  tressed 
The  Harlot's  way.     They  told  us,  in  the  town, 
This  Dame, — much  honored  now  for  noble  works — 
Was  devil-haunted,  and  the  wildest  wench 
Of  Galilee,  before  the  Nazarene 

Tamed  her,  and  taught  her  ;  and  she  grew  His  Friend, 
Closest  amid  the  faithful.     Is't  thy  will 
We  bid  her  to  this  Presence  ? " 

Pontius  said  : 
"  I  might  command,  for  still  I  bear  my  seal ; 
Authority  sits  yet  upon  my  lip  ; 
But  here  and  now,  I  soften.     Say  to  her 
The  Procurator,  guest  and  friend,  entreats 
Speech  with  this  Lady  Miriam." 

Thus  met 
She  who  most  loved  Him,  he  who  rendered  Him 
To  death  : — Pontius  and  Mary.     For,  anon. 
The  bar  slides  backward  of  the  Woman's  Court. 
And,  on  the  stair-way  of  the  leewan,  stood 


MARY    MAGDALENE.  87 

One  tall,  and  proud,  and  fair  ;  albeit  past  grief 
Had  dimmed  the  lustre  of  those  large  dark  eyes 
Bent  upon  Pilate.     Rich  the  Jewish  blood 
Glowed  through  the  sun-burnt  ivory  of  her  face — 
Unveiled  for  salutation — lending  show 
Of  color  to  the  thinned  uncolored  cheek, 
But  leaving  pale  as  pearl-lined  ocean  shell 
The  full  white  neck,  and  where  neck  rose  to  breast — 
The  tender  margins  of  the  bosom,  bound 
By  silver-bordered  cymar,  crossed  ; — and  pale 
As  moonlight's  heart  the  low  smooth  forehead  framed. 
Under  the  black  waved  hair  ;  forehead  and  hair  ; 
And  eyebrows,  bent  like  the  new  moon  ;  full  lids  ; 
Silk  lashes,  long  and  curved,  shadowing  with  touch 
Of  softest  melancholy  that  worn  place 
Where  the  tears  gather — all  declaring  her 
A  Daughter  of  the  Sun,  in  those  climes  born 
Where  light  and  life  are  larger.     Ah,  and  marked 
With  stamp  of  those  strong  passions  of  the  East, 
Where  not  more  Nature  has  her  pangs  and  throes, 


88  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE   WORLD. 

Than  man,  cradled  upon  her  burning  breast 
Tender  and  quick.     There  are  the  Dawns  of  Love 
Enkindling  hearts  with  instant  golden  glow 
Like  Morning  in  the  desert  ;  there  Love's  Noons 
Consuming,  all-revealing,  shadowless  ; 
With  fiery  fervor  draining  young  hearts  dry 
As  midday  drinks  the  streams  ;  and  there  Love's  Eves 
Swift  sinking  from  the  fierce  fit  to  the  lull, 
From  sun-blaze,  by  brief  dusk,  to  tranquil  stars, 
And  satisfied,  still  Night.     Earthquakes  and  floods  ; 
Withering  Simoons,  and  winds  that  tear  the  seas 
To  milky  madness,  find  their  counterparts 
In  those  own  children  of  the  Light,  who  live 
And  love  and  hate  with  pulse  at  quicker  beat. 
Such  heart-storms  gone  on  that  high  countenance 
Had  writ  their  passage,  but  not  left  her  marred. 
Rather,  like  some  majestic  Mount  she  shewed 
In  Cathay  or  Japan,*  whose  lofty  bulk 


>  The  lines  ensuing  were  written  at  the  foot  of  the  famous  extinct  volcano, 
Fuji  San,  near  Tokyo,  in  Japan. 


MARY    MAGDALENE.  89 

Raged  once,  all  flame  ;  which  broke  its  boundaries, 

And — torn  and  red  and  furious — scattered  round 

Levin,  and  lava-slime,  and  barren  ash, 

Blighting  what  lay  below.     Then  came  the  hush  ; 

And  that  which  was  all  terrible,  grew  fair. 

The  Hill  of  Hell  is  Crest  of  Paradise  ! 

The  cup  which  on  its  head  steamed  scarlet  reek 

And  spilled  forth  fires,  wears  in  the  cloudless  Blue 

A  silvery  rim  of  snows  ;  the  fevered  breast 

Slumbers  in  comforted,  unbroken  calm. 

With  placid  bands  and  gilded  clouds  girt  round, 

And  hues  of  sunrise  and  of  sunset  soft 

On  the  scorched  rocks.     Where  molten  channels  ran 

Streams  of  sweet  mountain  crystal  babble  down 

Embellishing  black  glen,  and  fissured  cliff. 

Deep  hollows  where  sad  Winter  hides  away 

From  Summer,  with  the  snow  still  in  her  lap  ; 

And  shoulders  of  sharp  crags  and  windy  shelves  ; 

With  laughing  light  of  flowers,  and  sparkling  threads 

Of  the  white  falling  water,  and  green  glades 


9©  THE   LIGHT   OF    THE    WORLD. 

Where  wild  birds  have  their  home,  and  plumy  ferns 
Wave  for  them,  and  the  iris  decks  their  nests 
With  flutter  of  her  purple  velvet  flags. 
And,  in  the  happy  plain,  that  Mountain's  foot 
Stands  feared  no  more,  but  worshipped,  watched,  and 

praised 
For  comeliness  exceeding,  and  large  gifts 
Of  cooling  airs,  and  shadows  cast  around. 
And  wandering  cloud-banks  with  their  welcome  rains 
Gathered  and  garnered  ;  fringed  with  villages 
And   wandering   flocks,    and    vines  ;  and   clustering 

groves 
Whose  roots,  in  death  and  desolation  fixed, 
Make  loveliness  of  loss,  and  grace  of  wreck. 
So  did  that  Lady  show  a  peace  and  charm, 
A  gracious  presence,  brought  from  passions  stilled, 
From  tempests  of  the  blood,  forever  hushed  : 
Fairer,  may  be,  as  she  stood  there,  serene, 
Than  in  those  bygone  days,  the  evil  days 
When  Galilee  down  to  its  utmost  edge, 


MARY    MAGDALENE.  9 1 

And  all  the  South,  was  loud  with  talk  of  her 
Who  walked  in  woven  gold  and  wore  her  braids — 
A  Queen  of  Sin — crowning  the  shameless  brow 
With  diadem  of  tresses,  tied  with  pearls, 
And  set  her  henna  scented-feet  on  necks 
Of  Greek  and  Latin  lovers. 

Now,  most  meek 
The  proud,  pale,  bended  face  :  the  folded  palms, 
The  knees  touching  the  pavement,  as  she  said  : 
"  The  Roman  Lord,  who  may  command,  hath  prayed 
Speech  with  his  servant.     She  must  needs  obey, 
Hostess  and  subject.     I  am  Miriam  !  " 

"  Wottest  thou  who  I  am  ? "  asked  Pontius. 

The  flame  of  those  old  fires  a  little  leaped  ; 
The  fair  hill  shook  again  with  bygone  storms 
One  moment,  while  she  murmured  :  "  Time  hath  been 
When,  with  a  curse,  or  by  my  girdle-knife, 


92  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

The  answer  of  thy  handmaid  had  been  given. 
Now  I  have  grace  to  say  I  hate  thee  not, 
But  pray  His  peace  for  thee.     Did  He  not  pray 
'  Father,  forgive  them?'     Yea  I  know  thee  well. 
'Twas  thou  didst  send  my  Master  to  the  Cross  !  " 
**  Hast  thou  forgiven,  who  didst  love  Him  so. 
That  which  my  well-worn  soul,  careless  of  blood, 
Pardons  not  to  itself  ?  "  quoth  Pontius. 

And  Mary  said  :     "  I  could  not  love  Him  so, 
Nor  rightly  worship  Him,  nor  live  to-day — 
As  always  I  must  live — on  the  dear  food 
Of  His  true  lips,  nor  trust  to  go  to  Him 
The  way  He  went,  if  I  forgot  His  word — 
'  Love  ye  your  enemies.'     Remembering  that 
I  bear  to  look  upon  thee,  Roman  Lord  ! 
Remembering  what  we  heard  Him  say  at  last : 
*  Forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do.' " 

"  Nay,  but  /  knew  !  "  quoth  Pontius.     "  Whereunto 
Prayed  thus  thy  Rabbi  ?    What  new  God  had  He  ? 


MARY    MAGDALENE.  93 

What  God  hast  thou  greater  than  Jove — to  nod, 
And  so  undo  past  deeds  which  have  been  done, 
And — as  thou  sayest — '  forgive  '  ?  " 

''That  which  befalls," 
She  gave  reply,  "  befalls  not  otherwise 
Than  as  it  hath  been  willed.     He  made  us  know 
There  cometh  to  the  ground  no  little  fowl, 
No  sparrow  of  the  house-top,  but  its  end 
Was  cared  for  ;  and  the  flowers  and  lowly  grass, 
Which  are  to-morrow  for  the  wayside  fire, 
Have  raiment  fore-provided  them  to  wear 
Brighter  than  Solomon's.     If  not  one  life 
Goes  anywhere  to  death,  save  for  good  use, 
And  by  the  over-arching  Power  allowed. 
Under  vast  Law  of  Love,  He — most  of  all — 
Died  for  Love's  sake,  and  was  ordained  to  die, 
Whom    thou    didst    doom.     Yet    thou   thyself    wert 

doomed 
To  do  Love  that  sad  service,  slaying  Him 


94  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Who  could  not  die,  but  freeth  all  from  death  ; 
For  we  have  seen  Him,  strong  and  beautiful, 
And  living  on  the  farther  shore  of  Death. 
Therefore  we  hate  thee  not,  but  pity  thee  ; 
And  those  like  thee  whose  evil  prospers  good  ; 
And  pray  for  thee,  since  Love  alone  helps  Hate 
To  'scape  the  whips  that  scourge  it  into  Right, 
And  bring  it  by  long  penance  into  peace 
Unwittingly  ; — under  a  greater  Name 
Than  what  thou  namest  and  thy  Romans  serve." 

"  Yea  !  "  Pontius  mused  :  "He  spake  to  me  of 
power 
Lent  from  above,  and  not  from  Jove  or  Rome  ! 
What  hindered  that  I  should  not  use  it,  then. 
To  have  thy  peace  this  night  in  place  of  irk  ? 
To  taste  full  greatness  of  thy  feebleness. 
Not  groan  with  littleness  of  majesty?" 

She   answered :    "  That   which    hindered    was 
thyself 


MARY    MAGDALENE.  95 

More  feared  of  Caesar  than  of  wrongfulness  ; 
And  that  which  hindered  was  thy  lust  to  win 
Favor  of  men  instead  of  praise  from  Heaven, 
Whose  still  voice  whispered  thy  vexed  will  in  vain. 
He  spake  to  us  :  '  Lay  up  no  treasures  here, 
Where  moth  and  rust  corrupt,  and  thieves  do  steal, 
But  lay  it  up  in  Heaven.'  " 

Pilate  brake  in  : 
^^Mehercle!    I  would  give  much  sesterces 
To  buy  that  ill  time  back,  albeit,  before. 
Death    never   spoiled    my   slumbers  !     What    said'st 

thou, 
That,  slaying  Him,  we  could  not  kill  ?     Thy  brow 
Weareth  no  band  of  madness,  yet  thy  speech 
Sounds  rank  unreason." 

"  Have  I  leave,"  she  asked, 
"  For  my  great  Master's  sake,  to  speak  more  near?  " 

"  I  pray  thee  very  humbly,"  Pontius  said, 
"  To  speak  as  thou  shall  deign." 


g6  THE   LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Thereat  she  rose 
Stateliest, — and  light  of  living  Love  and  Truth 
Made  fairer  her  fair  face,  kindled  her  eyes 
To  lovelier  lustre,  while  she  told  the  things 
Which  had  befallen  after  Calvary. 
How,  surely,  with  the  sad  days  ending  there 
New  days  were  dawned  and  hope  unknown  to  earth. 
How  He  walked  here,  the  shadow  of  Him  Love, 
The  speech  of  Him  soft  Music,  and  His  step 
A  Benediction  ;  making  sick  folk  whole, 
The  lame  to  walk,  the  lepers  to  go  clean, 
And  taking  back  the  dead  from  Death,  by  might 
Of  some  deep  secret  which  He  had  from  Heaven. 
Until — at  that  hard  triumph  of  the  Cross, 
In  hour,  and  way,  and  by  th'  appointed  hands- 
He  Himself  passed,  mild  and  majestical, 
Through   Death's  black  gate,  whose  inner  side  none 

saw 
Before  He  set  it  wide,  golden  and  glad, 
Conqueror  for  us  of  the  Unconquerable. 


MARY  MAGDALENE.  97 

Also,  along  these  coasts,  what  work  she  wrought — 
Many  most  mighty  works — and  how  He  taught 
The  nearness  of  eternal  things,  the  law 
Of  perfect  Son-ship  ;  being  Son  of  God 
By  eminence  of  manhood  ;  King  of  Kings 
By  royalty  o'erpassing  realms  and  crowns. 
Also  she  told  beautiful  words  He  spake, — 
Words  of  bright  mercy  and  of  boundless  peace — 
With  wisdom  wondrous,  clad  in  simplest  speech 
As  scent  and  silver  leaves  are  shut,  and  seed, 
For  golden  gardens  under  suns  to  come, 
In  the  unfolded  flower-cup.     "  Which  blest  buds  " 
Spake  she  :  "  shall  blossom  ever  more  and  more 
For  all  flesh  living,  till  the  full  fruit  rounds, 
And    there   be   'Peace  on  Earth — Peace  and   Good- 
will ! '  " 

But  many  drew  into  the  marbled  Court 
Silently,  one  by  one,  hearing  those  words 
Fearless  and  sure,  spoke  high  to  Pontius. 


98  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

For,  'twas  as  though  the  Angel's  song  anew 
Found  echo  in  our  air.     And  'mid  them  came — 
Leaving  his  kneeling  camel  at  the  gate — 
A  swarthy  stranger  in  the  Eastern  garb, 
Girdled  and  turbaned,  as  those  use  who  wend 
In  the  far  toiling  caravans  of  Hind. 
Reverent  and  rapt  he  stood  ;  and  when  she  ceased, 
Drew  swiftly  from  his  breast  a  silken  roll 
Tied  with  a  silver  thong,  and,  bending  low, 
Laid  this  at  Mary's  foot. 

But  Pilate  leaped 
Fierce,  from  his  place  ;  with  visage  white  and  writhed. 
"  Call  them  to  horse  !  "  he  cried,  "  for  I  will  ride 
To  Sepphoris,  before  the  sun  is  high, 
If  spurs  can  prick  !  One  other  watch  spent  here 
Will  brand  me  Nazarene  !  "  Therewith  he  flung 
Furiously  forth,  buckling  his  Roman  sword. 
And  strode  down  to  the  margin  of  the  Lake  ; 
While  in  the  street,  with  sleepy  stumbling  tread, 
Spearsmen  and  slaves  slow  gathered  for  the  march. 


MARY    MAGDALENE.  99 

But,  over  Galilee,  the  first  rays  spread — 
Tender  and  pearly — of  that  Dawn  who  takes 
No  taint  of  Earth,  whereon  her  white  feet  walk. 
The  hills  of  Gadara  were  ridged  with  rose, 
And  every  wimpling  wavelet  of  the  sea 
Rolled  a  white  edge  of  silver  on  the  gloom. 
A  blue  belt  widened  ;  and  the  beam,  which  broke 
Between  the  Morning-star  and  Night's  last  clouds, 
Even  while  it  shewed  the  wind-flower's  stainless  cup, 
And  the  red  lily,  waiting  for  her  Lord, 
Gleamed  on  the  greaves  of  Pilate,  gemmed  his  helm 
With  dancing  flocks,  and  lit  his  studded  shield 
With  soft  forgiving  splendors.     And  that  breeze 
Which  is  the  breath  of  Day,  waking  the  world. 
Stirred  with  no  gentler  waft  the  innocent  plumes 
Of  water-linnets,  rousing  in  the  reeds, 
Than  the  proud  purple  of  his  martial  cloak 
Clasped  with  the  brazen  eagles.     And  he  mused, 
One  sandal  in  the  ripples  of  the  Lake, 
Which  did  not  shun  his  foot — "  Aye,  by  the  Gods  ! 


lOO  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

She  spake  of  this  :  *  He  makes  His  sun  to  shine 

On  evil  and  on  good  ! '  Who  makes  ?  We  held 

'Twas  young  Apollo,  driving  steeds  of  gold 

That  made.     Not  Caesar,  certes  !  for  whose  wrath 

I  sold  myself  to  Rabbi  Caiaphas. 

Yet  blows  this  breeze  as  tender  on  my  cheek 

As  if  'twere  hers  of  Magdal,  who  hath  sinned 

And  lives  the  sweetlier !  Yon  all-seeing  Sun, 

Hastening  above  the  verge,  dips  not  again 

To  mark  me  standing  in  the  waves  He  loved  ! 

Those  waves,  with  wet  lips,  kiss  my  wrongful  foot, 

The  blind    blooms  waft   me   fragrance  !     Wherefore 

fear  ? 
Why  tremble  ?     Yet,  a  Son  of  Heaven  !  a  King  ! 
Would  I  had  heard  His  answer  !  Would  I  knew 
What  portion  mine  must  prove,  if  these  things  grow 
And  Rome  should  pass,  and  huge  Olympus'  self 
Be  emptied  of  its  Gods  !  " 

Thereat  He  turned 


MARY    MAGDALENE.  lOI 

To  stride  his  snorting  war-horse  ;  and  the  Day 

Broadened  in  glory  over  Galilee, 

Forgetting  no  man's  roof  ;  giv'n  out  of  Heaven 

Alike  to  all,  to  warm  and  comfort  all. 

And,  in  the  whispering  palms,  and  waving  grass. 

Once  more  that  lovely  promise  seemed  to  sound  : 

Hearts  of  all  upon  earth 
From  the  first  to  the  second  birth 
TO  rest  as  the  wild  waters  rest 
With  the  colors  of  heaven  on  their  breast. 


IBool^  2. 


THE     MAGUS. 


The  writing  of  the  silken  roll  was  this, 
In  Syriac  set  fair  ;  with  much  soft  phrase 
Of  salutation,  and  high  courtesies 
Precedent  ;  then  she  read  : 

"One  nowise  meet — 

Except  for  humbleness  and  gravity — 

To  kiss  the  latchet  of  her  shoe  who  walked 

Closest  and  dearest  of  His  nearest  friends, 

With  Jesus,  called  the  Nazarene,  doth  pray 

Speech  of  the  Lady  Miriam.     He  comes, 
103 


I04  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

By  eight  hard  moons,  from  Indus  to  this  Sea 
In  quest  of  it,  last  quest  of  waning  life, 
Seeing  thy  servant  numbereth  four  score  years, 
111  apt  for  journeyings.     A  slave  lays  these 
Before  thy  feet  ;  himself,  thy  slave,  awaits, 
Making  the  Eight  Prostrations." 

Hearing  that — 
Upon  the  morrow,  for  his  errand's  sake, 
And  for  his  years,  and  for  fair  courtesy. 
She  gave  good  answer,  writing  how  her  gates 
Stood  wide  for  such  an  one,  and  she  herself 
His  handmaiden. 

Thereat,  with  goodly  train 
Of  serving-men  and  beasts  caparisoned, 
Camels  and  riding  asses — to  her  door 
Came  this  far-travelled  elder  ;  entered  in 
With  silvered  brows  bowed  low,  and  thin  worn  hands 
Clasped  meekly,  palm  to  palm,  before  his  breast — 


THE    MAGUS.  I05 

The  Indian  wa)'.     Upon  the  pavement  there 
He  placed  his  forehead,  and,  in  soft  wise,  spake  : 

"  Art  thou  that  Miriam  of  Magdala 
Whose  name  is  born  to  us  with  Name  of  Him 
That    was    the    Teacher    here,    and    wrought    great 

works  : 
And  died  at  last  the  death  upon  the  Cross 
Three  spring  times  back,  thyself  beholding  this?" 

And  Mary  said  :  "  My  name  with  His  great  Name 
Was  no  more  worthy  to  keep  company 
Than  the  pale  fire-fly  with  the  risen  Sun  ! 
Yet  am  I  she  who  in  His  glorious  light 
Through  two  years  dwelled,  and  breathed  the  blessed 

air 
Sweet  with  His  breath,  and  in  these  happy  ears 
Took  the  great  music  of  His  wisdom.     Sir  ! 
How  shall  this  stead  you  ?  and  what  purposes 
Brought  thy  most  honorable  feet  so  far  ?  " 
He  made  reply  :  "  I  alone  live,  of  Tliree 


Io6  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Who,  many  winters  past,  came  to  thy  land 
Led  by  a  strange  white  Star,  burst  suddenly 
New  from  the  spangled  purple  of  the  Night : 
And,  while  we  read  the  sky,  our  knowledge  grew 
That  this  beamed  token  of  a  Teacher  born 
Illumining  the  World,  as  that  great  Star 
Shot  its  fair  splendors  far.     But,  loving  Light, 
And  always  seeking  Light — as  taught  of  Buddh — 
We  journeyed  hither  from  our  Indian  hills 
Wending  to  Bethlehem  ;  and  found  that  Babe 
Whom  thou  hast  known  as  Man,  divinely  signed 
By  praise  and  portent  to  be  Whom  we  sought. 
So,  at  those  little  feet  were  laid  our  gifts, 
Worshipping,  and  we  looked  upon  the  face — 
Tender  and  pure — of  Her  that  bore  the  Babe  ; 
Then,  warned  betimes  of  Herod's  dark  design. 
Homeward  returned.     There  while  the  years  went  by. 
Came  presently,  borne  by  the  caravans, 
Word  of  this  wonder  grown  ;  and,  to  our  minds, 
The  gold  and  silk  and  myrrh  of  all  their  bales 


THE    MAGUS.  I07 

Counted  but  dross  to  what  was  wafted  us 
Of  loftiest  wisdom  and  large  doctrines  given 
To  mend  the  old.     But  those  who  came  with  me 
Beforetimes,  died  ;  desiring  to  know  this  ; 
And  I  myself  die  soon — which  is  not  feared 
By  such  as  follow  great  Lord  Buddha's  Law  ; 
Yet  had  I  will  unquenchable  to  learn 
The  setting  of  the  Star  of  Men,  whose  rise 
My  younger  eyes  beheld.     Therefore,  once  more, 
Over  this  weary  way  my  steps  have  passed, 
To  hear  before  I  die.     And,  when  men  said 
In  Magdal,  by  the  Lake  of  Galilee, 
She  dwelleth,  who  did  love  and  serve  Him  most, 
My  face  I  turned,  sweet  Lady  !  to  thy  gate 
And,  by  thy  graciousness  emboldened  now, 
I  make  my  prayer." 

"What  prayer?"  soft  she  replied. 
Lifting,  and  leading  him  with  tender  hand, 
As  daughter  doth  her  sire,  to  that  raised  seat 
Upon  the  leewan. 


Io8  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE   WORLD. 

Then  he  said  :  "  Mine  ears 
Hunger  to  know,  what  thou  canst  best  impart, 
The  deeds  thy  Jesus  did,  the  words  He  spoke, 
The  ways  He  walked,  the  manner  of  His  days. 
And  of  their  close,  and  what  it  is  they  tell, 
Strange  and  unheard  before,  how,  after  death, 
He  was  seen  living.     Talk  of  such  new  things 
Came  to  us  by  the  merchants,  making  trade 
From  ours  to  yours.     One  sate  upon  a  Mount 
Which  hangs  above  thy  town  ;  and  heard  Him  speak 
Words  to  a  multitude,  whose  echoes,  faint — 
All  so  far  off — were  heavenly,  like  the  musk 
Which  keeps   his    fragrance   through   a   thousand 

leagues. 
One,  selling  spices  in  Jerusalem, 
Caught,  as  he  lay  at  Bethany,  some  waft 
Of  some  wight,  fetched  to  breath  again,  being  dead. 
An  '  Eleazar,'  townsman  of  the  place  : — 
And  yet  another,  winding  from  the  Sea, 
Met  Him  in  Tyre,  and  had  it  from  the  mouth 


THE    MAGUS.  I09 

Of  a  Sidonian  woman,  how  He  healed 

Her  child — being  distant  far — with  one  strong  word. 

Yet,  more  than  any  marvels,  would  I  learn 

What  truths  He  taught  beyond  those  truths  we  know 

Of  our  Lord  Buddha.     Such  my  humble  prayer, 

And  hither  have  I  journeyed,  hoping  this." 

The  light  of  larger  love  than  shines  for  Earth 
Made  beautiful  her  eyes,  while  at  his  knee 
She  bowed  ;  and  kissed  his  hands  ;  and  reverently 
Spake  :  "  Surely  thou  art  one  He  would  have  praised, 
Desiring  truth  ;  and  He  hath  bidden  us 
Declare  what  truth  we  know.     Small  wit  I  have 
To  tell  a  tenth  part  of  the  sweetness  poured 
From  those  dear  lips  ;  yet,  what  I  saw  and  heard 
Gladly  shall  I  recite.     Sojourn,  I  pray. 
Here,  with  thy  ser"ants,  for  a  space  and  take 
Rest  from  that  too  long  road  !  " 

Thus  did  it  fall 


no  THE    LIGHT    OF   THE    WORLD. 

That,  day  by  day  for  six  fair  friendly  days, 

The  Lady  and  the  Indian  Magus  sate 

In  gentle  converse  :  Mary  nowise  loath 

With  Memory's  spell  to  fetch  the  good  hours  back 

When  He  was  near  ;     and  that  grave  Eastern  Sage 

Listening  more  close,  to  catch  the  least  of  it, 

Than  lover  for  the  last  words  of  the  loved. 

And  where  they  sate  the  place  was  suitable 

For  lofty  talk.     A  cool,  white,  paven  court 

Shut  by  high  walls  from  noise  of  the  bazaar, 

With  fountains  tinkling  on  the  veiny  stones. 

And  trickling  basins,  where  the  silvery  fins 

Of  fishes  fanned,  and  crimson  lotus-cups 

Lolled  on  the  water  ;  and  papyrus  spread 

Her  filmy  fingers  ;  and  in  painted  jars 

Citron  and  oleander  spread  around 

Delicious  odors  ;  and  with  fearless  wing 

The  friendly  silken  swallow,  nest-building, 

Came  and  went,  lightsome,  through  the  latticed  stone. 

Where  rounded  arches  let  the  blue  sky  in 


THE   MAGUS.  Ill 


And  one  might  see  a  topmost  palm-branch  wave. 
There,  on  the  soft  piled  carpets,  sadly  glad, 
Told  she  the  Master's  story,  as  I  tell. 


"  What  was,  in  the  beginning  of  these  things, 
Scantly  I  know  by  hearing,  and  such  word 
As,  sometimes,  from  the  brothers  of  my  Lord, 
Or  from  His  Mother,  fell.     But  those  not  apt 
Greatly  to  speak  ;  since,  well-nigh  to  the  end 
Scant  honor  found  He  in  His  father's  House  : 
And  She  who  bore  Him — blessed  beyond  all 
Of  mortal  mothers — bore  a  load  besides 
Of  love  and  fear,  wonder  and  reverence, 
So  heavy  on  her  heart  that  her  still  lips 
Were  locked  as  if  an  Angel  held  them  close. 
Only  you  saw,  if  Heaven  should  seek  on  Earth 
F"it  mother  for  its  Messenger  of  grace, 
F'it  womb  to  lock  such  precious  treasure  safe, 


112  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Those  were  the  eyes, — communing  with  the  skies — 
That  was  the  face, — tender  and  true  and  pure  : — 
There  was  the  breast, — beautiful,  sinless,  sweet — 
This  was  the  frame, — majestic,  maidenly — 
And  these  the  soft,  strong  hands,  and  those  the  arms. 
And  those  the  knees, — bent  daily  in  meek  prayer — 
Whereto  the  Eternal  Love  would  needs  commit 
The  flower  of  Humankind  to  bud  and  blow, 

"  I,  who  have  been  that  which  He  found  me,  hide 
My  stained  cheeks  in  my  hands,  speaking  of  her 
Who  shewed  so  noble,  humble,  heavenly, 
So  virginal  and  motherly  ;  so  fair, 
The  Rose  of  Women.     Sir  !  if  thou  should'st  pluck 
A  thousand  lilies  here  in  Galilee 
One  would  shew  whitest  silver  ;  one  would  have 
Most  gold  at  heart.     And,  Sir  !  if  thou  should'st  fetch 
A  thousand  pearls  up  from  thy  Arab  Sea 
One  would  gleam  brightest,   best  !     The   queenliest 
gem, 


Healing  the  Sick. 

And  lie  laid   his  hands  on   every  one  of  llieni   and   liealcd   tliern,  —  I.l'KK   IV  ;    40. 


THE 


THE    MAGUS.  II3 

The  choicest  bloom,  would  happen  suddenly  ; 
Unlocked  for.     What  hath  made  them  perfect,  none 
Wotteth,  no  more  than  where  the  fount  will  rise 
Amid  a  hundred  hollows  of  the  grass 
Whence  the  stream  starts  ;  no  more  than  which  shall 

be— 
Of  cedar-apples  shed  by  myriads 
When  sea-winds  shake  the  groves  of  Lebanon — 
The  chosen  one  to  shoot,  and  grow,  and  spread 
A  roof  of  dark  green  glory  o'er  the  hill. 
In  such  wise,  as  I  dare  to  deem,  He  came 
Of  purest  Mother,  Perfect  Child,  begot 
Divinelier,  surely,  than  we  know  ;  arrived 
In  this  world, — of  His  many  worlds, — by  path 
Leading  to  birth  as  new,  as  sweet,  as  strange 
As  what  His  dear  feet  opened  past  the  Tomb. 
If  we  should  strive  to  say  in  mortal  speech 
Where     He    was    Man,   and    why    much    more   than 

Man, 
The  earthly  words  would  mar  the  Heavenly  truth. 


114  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE   WORLD. 

Love  tells  it  best  in  her  simplicity  ; 
And  Worship  in  his  deepest  silences. 

"  Thou  knowest  of  the  Birth,  and  how  there  fell 
Lauds  out  of  Heaven  to  hail  Him  ;  and  high  songs 
Of  peace,  and  comfortable  years  to  come  ; 
And  of  the  bitter  Prince  ;  the  murdered  babes, 
The  cry  of  childless  mothers.     How  they  fled — 
Mary  and  Joseph — to  the  Land  of  Nile, 
By  Hebron  and  by  Ziph,  sore-toiling  south' 
Over  the  Brook  of  Egypt.     On  their  way 
'Tis  told  the  palm-trees  stooped  to  give  them  fruit  ; 
That  dragons  of  the  deserts  slid  their  scales — 
Shamed  to  be  deadly — into  cleft  and  den  ; 
That  robbers,  by  the  road,  flung  spear  and  sword 
Down  on  the  sand,  and  laid  their  fierce  brows  there, 
Convinced  of  evil  by  mere  majesty 
Of  Babe  and  Mother.     And  dry  Roses  bloomed 
Back  into  beauty,  when  their  garments  brushed 
The  Rose-bush  ;  and  a  v/ay-side  sycamore 


THE    MAGUS.  US 

Beneath  whose  leaves  they  rested,  moved  his  boughs 
From  noon  till  evening  with  the  moving  sun 
To  make  them  shade.     And,  coming  nigh  to  On, 
Where  stands  the  house  of  Ra,  its  mighty  God — 
Cut  in  black  porphyry,  prodigious,  feared, — 
Fell  from  his  seat.     But  if  all  this  be  so 
I  wot  not. 

"Two  years  sojourned  they  by  Nile  : 
Then  Herod  died,  and  Archelaus  ruled 
Judaea,  and  Antipas  in  Galilee  ; 
And  to  the  parts  of  Galilee  they  came. 
Home  to  their  city,  white-roofed  Nazareth.  " 

The  Indian  said  :  "  I  passed  by  Nazareth, 
Riding  from  Esdraelon  that  steep  path 
Where  your  hills  open." 

"  Thou  hast  thereby  seen  " — 
Mary  replied, — "  the  place  which  was  His  own 


Il6  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Those  thirty  years  of  holy  quietude 

When  He  was  growing  to  His  manhood  fair, 

And  the  birds  knew  Him,  and  the  fields,  and  flowers; 

But  His  world  knew  Him  not.     For  we,  and  all 

Went  foolish,  wondering  at  Jerusalem, 

And  Rome  and  Athens  ;  not  the  little  town 

More  great  than  these  by  that  one  lowly  hut. 

And  thou  hast  thereby  viewed  what  face  this  Earth 

Morning  and  eve  turned  towards  Him,  shewing  Him 

More  love  than  we,  by  silent  loveliness. 

Thou  saw'st,  from  His  own  hill,  how  Carmel  plunged 

Its  broad  foot  in  the  tideless,  hyacinth  Sea, 

And  how,  to  eastward,  glad  with  groves  and  streams. 

Rose  Tabor,  rounded  like  a  breast  ;  what  leagues 

Of  grey  and  golden  plains,  fading  to  blue, 

Stretched  beyond  Kishon,  under  Endor,  Nain, 

Down  to  Megiddo,  with  her  two-fold  peak. 

And  Gilboa,  dry  and  smooth  ;  and  Salem's  slope  ; 

And,  between  Salem  and  soft  Tabor,  glimpse 

Of  Jordan's  speed,  with  sunlit  ramps  beyond 


THE    MAGUS.  Hy 

Fencing  the  Desert.     These  did  feed  His  eyes  ; 
Here  was  His  world,  almost  the  all  He  saw. 
The  Sun,  whose  golden  mandate  well  He  knew, 
Shewed  Him  no  more  than  this,  of  all  His  earth  ; 
The  Stars,  watching  Him  grow  a  Star,  to  save, 
Lighted  no  larger  tract  for  His  mild  eyes  ; 
Only  that  white  town  and  those  hills  around, 
Carmel  and  Tabor,  as  thou  sawest  them  rise. 
And  here  the  Lake,  and  there  the  shining  Sea. 
Yet  from  the  camel's  saddle  thou  could'st  note 
How  fair  and  gracious  was  the  land,  made  good 
With  grass  and  blooms,  and  clad  in  fruitful  green, 
Pasture  and  tilth;  and  every  channel  ffinged 
With  rosy  lanes  of  oleander  sprays; 
And  every  hollow  thick  with  oak,  and  fig, 
Palm  and  pomegranate — where  the  tree-doves  coo; 
The  crested  hoopoe  flits;  the  roller-bird 
Lights  the  dark  thicket  with  his  burning  blues; 
The  water-tortoise  winnows  the  clear  stream; 
The  white  cranes  watch  their  shadows  in  the  pool; 


Il8  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

The  fish  leap,  red  and  silver,  and  the  fox 

Plays  with  her  cubs  where  lines  of  trellised  vines 

Climb  the  grey  crags.     A  goodly  land  and  still, 

Habited  by  a  people  pastoral, 

Simple  and  poor  ;  owning  for  wealth  their  skies, 

Their  Sea,  their  streams,  and  mountains." 

"  Nay  !  I  saw," 
The  Magus  said  :  "  with  eyes  rejoiced,  your  hills 
Which  follow  well  the  sorrowful  burnt  rocks 
Belting  Jerusalem." 

"Aye  !  " — she  went  on- 
"  Thither  each  year,  at  time  of  passover, 
He  wended  with  his  parents  ;  and  would  see 
Gannim  and  Sichem — where  the  lowland  creeps, 
Under  the  uplands,  into  narrowed  green 
Like  lake  made  river,  with  those  crests  for  coasts 
Ebal,  Gerizim  ;  and  by  Gibeah 
And  Bethel  and  the  Valley  of  the  Thorns,  ' 


THE    MAGUS.  ng 

To  Scopus — to  the  brow  where,  white  and  gold, 

Under  sloped  Olivet,  the  Temple  rears 

Her  stately  glory.     And  the  child  would  pass 

Into  the  City's  midst,  and  mingle  there 

With  Jew  and  Gentile,  in  the  thronged  bazaar  ; 

Would  mark,  above  the  Sanctuary  gate, 

Herod's  great  eagle,  and  the  keen  steel  spears 

Of  Roman  Annius,  or  Coponius, 

Glitter  around  the  black  Praetorium. 

Would  know  His  time  come  nigh  with  Zion's  shame, 

And  note  the  Pharisee  and  Sadducee, 

Priest,  scribe,  and  lawyer,  feeding  hungry  souls         • 

With  husks  of  law.     Nay,  and  would  oft  repair 

Within  the  Temple  ;  and  was  one  day  found 

Astrayed,  sitting  amid  the  Rabbim  there — 

Hillel,  and  Shammai,  and  Gamaliel, 

Ben  Zacchai,  Ben  Uzziel,  wise  Nakdimon, 

Arimathaean  Joseph — all  our  best — 

Hearing  and  asking  questions.     Yet  none  knew, 

For  all  their  wisdom  and  their  wintry  hairs, 


I20  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

That  fair  Boy  in  the  Syrian  Country-frock, 
With  heavenly  eyes  and  mouth  of  music,  sent 
To  put  aside  the  ancient  scrolls,  the  Law, 
The  Hagathoth  and  Halacoth — to  break 
Their  chains,  and  into  living  spirit  melt 
Their  dead  cold  letter. 

"  Ever  back  he  came 
Glad — so  I  deem — to  sunlit  Galilee  ; 
Not  bowing,  not  consenting,  nowise  bound 
To  that  hard  God  served  in  Jerusalem, 
Jehovah  of  the  Law,  the  jealous  Lord 
Who  '  eye  for  eye,  and  tooth  for  tooth  '  decreed, 
And  loved  the  bloody  sacrifice,  and  wrought 
Good  to  his  Tribes,  but  ill  to  enemies. 
Day  by  day,  wandering  in  those  folded  hills 
A  statelier  Temple  in  His  heart  He  built : 
A  happier  altar  reared  ;  a  truer  God 
Enshrined  ;    That    Presence  and    That    Power   Who 
fills 


THE    MAGUS.  121 

All  hearts  with  what  is  Life  and  what  is  Love,     ! 
And  what  endures  when  seen  things  pass  away;    l 
Nameless  ;  or  if,  for  human  needs,  we  name 
Then — from  the  narrow  treasury  of  our  tongues — 
The  highest,  holiest,  dearest,  closest,  best 
Of  Earth's  weak  words.     Ofttimes,  in  later  hours 
When  lack  was  of  some  name.  He  called  that  Spirit 
Which  is  the  All,  and  makes  the  wide  seas  roll, 
The  blue  sky  bend,  the  clustered  planets  shine, 
The  dead  things  come  to  life,  the  live  things  live  ; 
That  Being,  Which, — ever  with  Him,  was  as  He, 
And,  largest,  fullest  in  His  own  sure  soul 
Dwelt  immanent — '  Our  Father.'  " 

Softly  brake 
The  Magus  in  :  "  Om,  Ainitaya  !    Oh, 
The  Immeasurable  ! — What  word  but  doeth  wrong 
Clothing  the  Eternal  in  the  forms  of  Now  ? 
Our  high  Lord  Buddha  would  not  name  Him  once, 
As  much — as  little, — *  Mother,'  '  Lover,'  '  Friend,' 


122  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

As  '  Father  !  '  being  not  He  nor  She,  nor  aught 
Which  may  be  compassed  by  an  earthly  word  ; 
But  Thinker,  Thought,  Maker  and  Made,  in  One  !  " 

"  My  Friend  is  wise  with  many  years,  and  lore 
Of  the  large  East,"  she  said  ;  "  if  no  Name  be 
Will  not  the  weak  souls  say  '  nought  is  to  name  ? ' " 

"  They  say  so  !  they  will  say  so  !  "  answered  he, 
"  Yet  is  tlie  Parabrahm  unspeakable  !  " 

"  Tell  me  a  little  how  thy  Scriptures  call 
This  Parabrahm — "  she  said. 

The  Indian  mused. 
And  then  replied  :  "We  have  a  scroll  which  saith 
'  Worships  but  name  no  name  !  blind  are  those  eyes 
Which  deem  tJi    Unmanifested  manifest, 
Not  comprehending  Me  in  my  True  Self. 
Imperishable,  Viewless,  undeclared. 
Hidden  behind  My  magic  veil  of  shoivs 


THE    MAGUS.  I23 

/  am  7iot  seen  at  all.     Name  not  My  Name  ! ' 
Also  a  Verse  runs  in  our  Holy  Writ  : 
'Richer  than  heavenly  fruit  on  Vedas  growing  ; 

Greater  than  gifts  ;  better  than  prayer  or  fast, 
Such  sacred  silence  is  !     Man,  this  ivay  knowings 

Comes  to  the  utmost,  perfect  Peace  at  last !  ' 

"  Yet  pause  not,  gracious  Daughter !  for  mine  ears 
Drink  with  an  unslaked  thirst  thy  precious  tale." 

"  *  God  is  a  spirit !  they  who  worship  Him 
In  spirit  and  in  truth  must  worship  Him  !  * 
He  spake  that,  too  !  " — Mary  went  on, — and  then  : 
"  Thus  ligged  He — as  we  gathered— all  those  years 
In  Nazareth  :  and  Joseph  died  ;  and  need 
Came  that  He  take  with  all  humility, 
The  load  of  common  lives.     So  in  that  town 
Hard  by  the  fountain,  in  the  house  I  know, — 
(Oh  Me  !     I  passed  with  Pappus  by  its  porch  ; 
We  in  the  golden  litters.  He  at  toil  !) 


124  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

His  trade  He  plied,  a  Carpenter,  and  built 
Doors,  where  folks  come  and  go,  unto  this  hour, 
Not   wotting   how    the  hands   which    wrought  their 

doors 
Unbarred  Death's  gate  by  Love's  high  sacrifice  ; — 
Tables  whereon  folks  set  their  meat,  and  eat. 
Heedless  of  Who  was  *  Bread  of  Life  '  and  gave 
Such  food  that  whoso  eateth  hungereth  not. 
And,  in  those  little  lanes  of  Nazareth, 
Each  morn  His  holy  feet  would  come  and  go 
While  He  bore  planks  and   beams,  whose  back  must 

bear 
The  cruel  cross.     And,  then,  at  evening's  fall 
Resting  from  labor,  with  those  patient  feet 
Deep  in  white  wood-dust,  and  the  long  curled  shreds 
Shorn  by  His  plane, — He  would  turn  innocent  eyes 
Gazing  far  past  the  sunset  to  that  world 
He  came  from,  and  must  go  to  ;  nigh  to  Him, — 
Nigh  unto  us,  albeit  we  see  it  not, 
Whereof  Life  is  the  curtain,  and  mute  Death 


THE    MAGUS.  JZC 

Herald  and  Door  keeper.     One  eve,  they  say, 
The  shadow  of  His  outstretched  arms — cast  strong 
By  sun-down's  low-shot  light, — painted  a  Cross 
Black  on  the  wall ;  and  Mary,  trembling,  drew 
Her  garment  o'er  the  lattice.     But  He  spake  : 
'Near  unto  me  is  near  to  loss  and  death. 
And  far  from  me  is  far  from  Life  and  gain.' 
There  is  a  Maid  of  those  that  love  Him  here 
Sings  on  the  minnim  a  poor  song  of  this 
If  thou  wilt  hear  ;  while  those  about  us  bring 
Olives  and  grapes,  and  we  a  little  cease  : " 

Thereat  a  Hebrew  girl  tied  back  her  sleeve, 
Tuning  the  strings,  and,  to  their  melancholy, 
Sang  softly  of  "The  Shadow  and  the  Light :  " 

"Meek  and  sweet  in  the  sun  He  stands, 

Drinking  the  cool  of  His  Syrian  skies  ; 

Lifting  to  Heaven  toil-wearied  hands, 

Seeing  His  Father  with  those  pure  eyes. 


126  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

"  Gazing  from  trestle  and  bench  and  saw 

To  the  Kingdom  kept  for  His  rule  above  ; 

Oh,  Jesus,  Lord  !  we  see  with  awe  ! 

Oh,  Mary's  Son,  we  look  with  love  ! 

"  We  know  what  message  that  even-tide 

Bore,  when  it  painted  the  Roman  cross, 

And  the  purple  of  night-fall  prophesied 
The  hyssop  to  Him,  and  to  us  the  loss. 

"The  Crown  which  the  Magi  brought  to  her 
It  made  a  Vision  of  brows  that  bleed  ; 

And  the  censer,  with  spikenard,  and  balm,  and  myrrh. 
It  lay  on  the  wall  like  the  Sponge  and  Reed. 

'*  But  now  Thou  art  in  the  Shadowless  Land, 
Behind  the  light  of  the  setting  Sun  ; 

And  the  worst  is  forgotten  which  Evil  planned, 

And  the   best    that  Love's  glory   could   win,  is 
won  !  " 


THE    MAGUS.  I27 

"  Yet,  on  His  seldom  saddened  Countenance  " — 
Mary  went  on — "  no  shadow  lay  !     He  saw 
By  sunlight  and  by  starlight,  steadfastly, 
That  radiance  of  the  Kingdom,  that  high  Noon 
Of  Life  and  Love,  which,  shining  inwardly, 
Hath  never  any  night.     Therein  He  dwelt 
Prince,  of  the  Heavenly  Purple  ;  Heir  and  Son 
Of  spheres  eternal  and  invisible, 
Where  meek  souls  sit  the  highest,  and  the  poor 
Are  richest,  and  the  pure  in  heart  are  Lords. 
And  ever  in  the  spirit,  sage  and  calm. 
That  which  we  name  not  habited,  the  sense 
Of  an  abiding  Presence,  Fatherly, 
Motherly,  Friend-like,  Lover-like  ;   more  dear 
Than  dearest  ones  on  earth,  more  near  than  blood 
To  the  beating  heart,  or  neck-vein  to  the  neck  ; 
More  boundless  than  the  immeasurable  Blue, 
More  mighty  than  a  thousand-bolted  Jove 
Throned  on  some  new  Olympus,  whose  vast  head 
Smiteth  the  stars  ;  more  sweet  to  love  and  serve 


128  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Than  dulcet-speaking  Mistress  ;  more  to  trust 
Than  truest  Friend  ;  more  tender  than  the  arms 
Of  nursing  Mother  ;  more  forgiving,  fond, 
Kindred,  and  kind,  than  Father  ; — yea  !     Great  God 
Making  us  Gods  and  taking  us  to  Him. 

"Wherefore,  grace  spread  around  Him,  and  fair 
peace 
Coming  and  going  ;  and  the  air  grew  glad 
Whithersoever  He  would  pass  ;  and  gaze 
Of  townsfolk,  and  of  women  at  the  well — 
Not  knowing  wherefore, — followed  Him  ;  and  tongues 
Were  stilled,  not  knowing  why,  if  He  did  speak. 
For  then,  already,  grew  the  mystery 
Of  wisdom  in  Him,  and  that  word  which  seemed 
Higher  than  Earth's.     Afterwards,  people  told 
Strange  tales  of  those  hid  days,— how,  at  His  toil, 
Touching  a  plank,  it  stretched  to  rightful  length, 
Or  shortened,  at  His  will — the  dead  wood  quick 
To  live  again  and  serve  Him.     How  He  made 


THE    MAGUS.  I29 

Birds  out  of  clay,  and  clapped  His  hands,  and  lo  ! 

They  chirruped,  spread  their  wings,  and  flew  away  ; 

And  how,  in  month  of  Adar,  Syrian  boys 

Playing  in  Nazareth, — as  thou  hast  seen — 

With  girdled  frocks,  striped  tunics,  and  feet  bare — 

Found  Him,  and  crowned  Him  with  white  lily-buds, 

And  put  a  stick  of  lilies  in  His  hand, 

And  set  Him  on  the  hill-side,  bending  knee 

In  merry  worship,  and  made  whoso  passed 

Halt  and  bow  lowly,  crying  :  *  Hither  come, 

Worship  our  King,  then  wend  upon  thy  way  !  * 

"Surely,  as  thus  we  heard,  at  Nazareth 
Full  soft  and  holy  sped  the  happy  time 
In  the  white  hut,  hard  by  that  well,  where  yet 
Wives  come  and  go  with  pitchers,  dawn  and  eve. 
Who  came  and   went  with  Him  ;    and  helped   Him 

draw 
Fair  water  thence,  and  bear  it,  dutiful, 
To  where  His  Mother  wrought  her  household  chores 


130  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Silent,  and  wondering  what  should  fall ;  and  doves 
Sunned  on  the  roof  their  silver  wings,  and  vines 
Climbed,  glad  to  glorify  His  lowly  door. 
Within  thou  wottest  well  what  little  rooms, 
What  chest  of  wood,  gay  painted  ;  on  a  shelf 
What  quilted  beds  uprolled  ;  what  pans  and  cups — 
Copper  and  brass  and  clay, — ranged  duly  round 
With  great  jar  at  the  back,  by  flag-leaves  shut 
To  keep  the  water  cool.     And,  when  Night  fell, 
Hatchet  and  saw  and  nails  laid  in  their  places, 
And  the  low  table  spread  with  peasant's  food, 
Rice  and  the  libban,  and  a  common  bowl. 
Afterwards,  peaceful  sleep — yet,  had  man  eyes, 
Sleep  watched  by  wondering  eyes  of  wakeful  stars, 
And  guarded,  out  of  that  new-opening  Heaven, 
By  glorious  Angels,  golden  sentinels. 
Keeping   Him   safe,  whose  words  shall   save   the 
World." 


'Bool^  3, 


THE    ALABASTER    BOX. 


Next  morn,  upon  the  marble  leewan  met — 
Soft  salutations  paid,  and  praise,  and  thanks — 
"What  hast  thou  in  thy  hand,"  the  Indian  asked, 
"Which  thou  dost  gaze  upon  so  fixedly?" 

For,  sitting  with    her   long  hair    loosed,    and  eyes 
Bent  downwards,  Mary  in  her  clasped  palms  held 
A  broken  box  of  alabaster,  shards. 
Of  some  rare  casket,  cut  from  satin  stone. 
Where  the  wrecked  beauty  of  the  precious  work 
Yet  shone  with  lovely  lustre  ;  milk-white  rock 
Veined  rose  and  gold,  and  thinned,  diaphanous, 
131 


132  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

So  that  light  filtered  through  its  fragments  pale, 
And,  past  them,  the  close-clinging  fingers  shewed. 

"Good  Friend!" — the  Lady  Miriam  began — 
"  thy  Hind 
Which  hath  those  rivers  with  the  sands  of  gold, 
And  hills  of  lazulite,  and  fisheries 
Whence  the  great  pearls  are  gotten, — could  not  buy 
With  all  its  precious  store  of  Orient  wealth, 
The  treasure  of  this  broken  box  from  me  ! 
Sweeter  than  spikenard  odors,  lingering  still 
On  each  white  remnant  of  the  wondrous  toil, 
Hangs  the  dear  memory  of  a  day  more  sad. 
More   glad,   more    proud,    more   shameful — more   to 

mourn. 
More  to  rejoice  in — than  all  other  days 
Of  all  thy  handmaid's  years.     Nay,  but  my  life 
Rather  began  when  this  fair  thing  found  end  ! 
Twas  an  Egyptian  labor,  cut  with  pains 
From  the  streaked  stone,  and  wrought,  as  thou  shalt 

see. 


THE    ALABASTER    BOX.  I33 

By  matchless  master-craft,  to  make  a  gift 
For  Caesar  ; — since  the  Emperor  owned  it  first. 
And  next  it  fell  to  Rufus,  but  he  gave 
The  beauteous  marvel  at  his  banquet  board 
To  one  that  sold  it  for  a  hundred  slaves  ; 
So  came  it  to  Pandera.     Did  they  tell — 
Sending  thee  hither — thee  so  grey  and  grave — 
What  Miriam  once  had  been  ?  " 

The  Indian  Sage 
Gave  gentle  answer:  "  If  mine  ears  have  heard 
Evil  of  thee,  my  heart  would  quite  forget. 
Which  hath  no  room  to-day  for  any  thought, 
Not  good  or  grateful,  of  my  Lady's  grace." 

"  Aye  !  but  " — she  sighed — "  evil  was  good  for  me  ! 
I  lived,  in  all  this  land  the  boldest,  w^orst, 
Who  braided  up  her  hair  the  harlot's  way. 
That  beauty  Nature  gave  me  I  abased, 
Selling  it  with  a  loveless  heart  to  win 


134  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Wealth,  and  rich  raiment,  and  the  knees  of  men. 
Oh  me  !  my  days  splendid  and  sinful  !  Earth 
Emptied  her  stores  to  pleasure  me  ;  they  brought, 
To  buy  my  smiles,  their  Tyrian  purple  webs, 
Their  myrrhine    cups,  their  silks,  their    sards,  their 

nard, 
Drachmas,  and  darics,  shekels,  sesterces  ; 
And  slaves  to  fan  my  sleep,  and  gilded  chairs 
To  bear  me  to  the  Temples  and  the  feasts. 
I,  that  am  still  and  sane  to-day,  have  led 
Revels  so  mad  the  shamed  stars  drew  the  clouds 
Over  their  argent  faces.     Chinnereth 
Burned  with  our  cressets  ;  and  the  water-ways 
Ran  to  its  brink  red  with  our  chalice  dregs. 
And  Syria  groaned  and  fierce  Samaria  surged, 
And  wild  mobs  clamored  round  the  Palace  gates 
While,    in    these    arms,    Caesar's    drugged     satraps 

dreamed, 
Praetor,  and  Procurator.     Nay  !  hear  all  ! 
Not  Latins  only,  no,  nor  Greeks  alone  ; 


THE    ALABASTER    BOX.  I35 

Nor  Jew,  nor  Idumoean, —  for  my  name, 

My  golden  infamy,  grew  East  and  West  ; 

Till  Rome  and  Athens  heard,  and  Tyre  and  Crete 

And  Cyprus,  and  the  Isles,  and  Media, 

Not  less  than  Magdal  and  Tiberias, 

Talk  of  the  Miriam  of  Galilee, 

The  harlot  with  the  long,  black,  braided  hair, 

Who  melted  hearts  in  spiced  pomegranate  wine — 

Than  Alexandrian  Queen  more  prodigal — 

And   laughed   their  wealth   to   want,  and   trod  their 

pride 
Under  her  'broidered  sandals  ;  and  took  toll 
Of  goods  and  gear,  wasting  in  one  wild  bout 
The  Temple's  wealth  ;  'till,  like  that  rose-faced  one 
Of  Memphis,  I  had  reared  a  pyramid 
With  but  one  block  from  each  who  fawned  on  me 
Sir  !  such  I  was,  that  play  thy  hostess  here 
With    these   white  shards,   which    saved  me,   in    my 

lap. 
Reverend  and  grave  thou  shew'st:  if  thy  will  be 


136  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Now  to  depart,  hearing  these  stained  lips  speak, 
Thou  shalt  have  praise,  not  blame,  from  Miriam." 

"Child  !  "  soft  he  said  :  "  I  hail  the  stately  ship 
Safe  from  all  storms,  anchored  in  quietness  ! 
I  hail  the  fair  white  hind,  flower  of  these  woods. 
Fled  from  the  wolves  of  sense,  which  tore  her  flesh  ! 
I  hail  the  gentle  river,  stayed  and  vexed 
By  crag  and  ledge,  smooth-gliding  at  the  last, 
'Mid  fruitful  fields  and  dropping  blooms,  to  find 
Calm  consummation  in  the  accepting  Sea  ! 
I  hail  thy  heavenly  beauty,  purged  to  prove 
Grace  and  not  plague  to  men  !  Oh,  thou  that  art 
Thine  own  high  Conqueror,  and  hast  set  foot 
On  the  Eight  Noble  Paths,  an  old  man's  lips 
Low  at  thy  hem,  praise  thee  and  honor  thee  ! 
Yet  tell  me.  Lady  !  how  the  new  days  came." 

"  He  would  have  spoken  so  ;  so  did  He  speak, 
So  speaking  He  did  heal  me  !  "  murmured  she  ; 


THE    ALABASTER    BOX.  I37 

Then  said  aloud — "  Learn  thou  that  Nazareth 

Cast  forth  her  glory,  flung  her  star  away  ; 

Forgot  those  good  years  when  His  fellowship 

Made  her  air  sweeter  and  her  heavenly  sky 

Diviner,  those  fair  years  when  all  might  hear 

The  mallet  of  '  The  Carpenter  '  at  work, 

While  in  His  holy  soul  He  built  the  frame 

Of  truth's  high  kingdom  here — fitted  the  beams 

Of  such  a  Temple  as  the  Eternal  Love 

Would  dwell  in.     One  ill  Sabbath,  when  he  came 

Journeying  by  Sychar,  new  from  seeing  John — 

John  the  Fore-runner,  who  had  surely  said  : 

'  This  is  the  Christ  to  be,'  He  entered  in 

That  synagogue  thou  sawest  on  the  hill  ; 

And  stood  to  read.^     The  Chazzan  drew  the  scroll 

Forth  from  the  silken  curtains  of  its  ark, 

Unrolled  the  great  Megillah  to  the  page 

Marked  for  the  day,  giving  Esaias  out — 


» The  ground  on  which  this  synagogue  stood  at  Nazareth,  was,  for  some  time, 
owned  by  the  Author  ;  with  the  purpose  of  establishing  a  hospital  there,  which 
but  partially  succeeded. 


138  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

And,  from  the  Prophet,  Jesus  spoke  these  words  : 

'  THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE    LORD  IS  UPON  ME, 
BECAUSE  HE  HATH  APPOINTED  ME  TO  PREACH 
THE  GOSPEL  TO  THE  POOR  ;    HE  HATH  SENT 
ME  TO  HEAL  THE  BROKEN-HEARTED  ;    TO 
PREACH  DELIVERANCE  TO  THE  CAPTIVES,  AND 
RECOVERING  OF  SIGHT  TO  THE  BLIND  :    TO 
SET  AT  LIBERTY  THEM  THAT  ARE  BRUISED, 
TO  PREACH  THE  ACCEPTABLE  YEAR  OF  THE 
LORD.' 

"  This  He  did  read,  and  spake,  in  majesty, 
That  which  was  true,  as  afterwards  all  knew, 
'  I  am  your  promised  Prophet,  Priest,  and  King  ! ' 
Whereat  they  stormed,  brake  into  bitter  wrath, 
Drave  forth  their  Rabbi  with  the  heavenly  face, 
Had  will  to  kill  Him, — being  but  '  Carpenter ' 
Who  made  Himself  Messiah  ; — had  fierce  mind 
To  fling  Him  down  the  steep  ;  but  He  passed  through. 
And  went  His  way. 


THE    ALABASTER    BOX.  139 

"  That  was  the  day  we  rode 
Up  from  Sebaste  towards  Tiberias, 
And  on  my  wrist  a  damning  splash  of  blood 
From  throat  of  one  my  angry  lover  stabbed 
At  mid-feast,  in  the  madness  of  the  wine. 
'Twas  there,  at  Kenna,  'mid  my  thickest  sins, 
Red  outwardly  with  murder  ;  inwardly 
Black  to  the  heart's  core  with  wild  wickedness. 
Dwelt  in  by  all  the  seven  dark  devils  of  Hell, 
I  saw  my  Lord  !  Oh,  first  I  saw  my  Lord  ! 
And,  sir  !  I  heard  His  voice.     Was  one  we  knew 
Steward  to  Herod  {for  my  revellers 
Were  men  of  Antipas)  who  stayed  Him  there — 
Bent  for  Capernaum  from  Nazareth — 
Praying  swift  succor  for  a  dying  child. 
And  urging  fervently.     While  we  made  halt 
To  witness,  tenderly  the  Master  turned 
With  look  ineffable,  and  gazed  ;  and  spake  : 
'  Go  !  thy  Son  liveth  ! ' 


140  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

"  Whom  I  saw — with  eyes 
Which  never  have  forgot,  nor  will  forget 
Till  Heaven's  day  shews  me  Him  again — was  One 
Of  a  commanding  stature^ — beautiful — 
Bearing  such  countenance  as  whoso  gazed 
Must  love,  or  fear.     Wine-color  shone  His  hair 
Glittering  and  waved, — an  aureole  folded  down, 
Its  long  rays  lighted  locks, — which  fell,  and  flowed, 
Fair  parted  from  the  middle  of  His  head, 
After  the  manner  of  the  Nazarites. 
Even  and  clear  His  forehead  ;  and  tlie  face 
Of  dignity  surpassing,  pure  and  pale 
As  the  Greeks'  marble,  but  flushed  frequently 
With  the  bright  blood  of  manhood.     Nose  and  mouth 
Faultless  for  grace,  and  full  and  soft  the  beard, 
Forked,  of  the  hazelled  color  of  His  hair  ; 
The  great  eyes  blue  and  radiant  ;  mild  as  sky 
Of  spring-time  after  rain,  yet  terrible 
As  lightning  leaping  sudden  from  that  sky, 


>  Taken  from  the  letter  of  Lentnlus. 


THE    ALABASTER    BOX.  I4I 

When  He  rebuked.     In  admonition  calm  ; 

In  tender  hours  each  word  like  music's  soul 

Heard  past  the  sound  !     Not  ofttimes  seen  to  smile, 

More  oft  to  weep  ;  3'et  of  a  lofty  cheer 

Commonly — nay,  of  playful  raillery, 

And  swift  wit,  softened  with  sweet  gravity. 

Straight-standing  like  a  palm-tree  ;  hands  and  limbs 

So  moulded  that  the  noblest  copy  them  : 

Among  the  sons  of  Men  fairest  and  first. 

"  Friend  !  shall  you  think  one  remnant  of  myself. 
One  shred  of  that  wild  will  was  Miriam's, 
One  pulse  of  the  quick  blood  wont  to  be  stirred 
By  passion,  and  the  goodly  shapes  of  men 
Moved  me,  when,  on  the  sight  of  Him,  I  left 
My  litter,  and  my  Lover,  and  my  Life, 
And  followed  in  His  footsteps  ?     Pray  thee,  know 
Mortal  desire  as  well  might  reach  at  stars 
As  woman's  eye  and  woman's  wish  climb  up 
To  such  far  height  of  starry  majesty  ; — 


142  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD, 

By  that  impassable  blue  of  Holiness 

Endlessly  separate  !  But  love  ? — oh,  aye  ! 

Swift,  strong,  supreme,  consuming,  final  love  ! 

With  such  a  worship  filled,  such  reverence, 

The  heart  had  knees,  and  bowed  ;  the  soul  had  eyes 

Which  veiled  themselves  at  gaze  ;  the  mind  had  mind 

To  die  for  Him  ;  the  body  burned  to  grow 

His  temple.     Heart,  soul,  body,  mind,  all  His 

Forever  and  forever, — at  first  sight, — 

In  some  fair  newer  World,  shown  possible 

At  that  first  sight.     And  in  such  world  I  live 

From  that  time,  on  the  road  of  Galilee, 

When  in  my  breast  the  seven  dark  devils  dwelt 

And  round  my  wrist  the  blood  of  Pappus  clung  : 

And  that  old  life  seems  like  a  feather  dropped 

From  free  bird's  wing — mine,  yet  no  longer  mine  ; 

And  in  the  air  of  sweet  new  life  I  soar 

Singing  and  soaring  with  the  joy  He  taught. 

"  Wherefore,  I  followed  to  Capernaum, 


THE    ALABASTER    BOX.  143 

One  in  His  lengthening  train — the  last  and  least — 

Unnoticed  ;  for  I  cast  aside  my  webs 

Of  Coan,  and  my  torques  of  Roman  gold 

At  Kenna — and  put  on  the  mitpachath 

Rddtd  3S\di  tsaiph,  dressed  as  our  peasants  use 

Along  the  Lake.     So  did  I  see  Him  teach 

Day  after  day  ;  and  in  the  synagogue 

Behind  the    women's  lattice,  heard  the  Law 

Read  to  the  congregation  by  such  lips 

As  lit  its  mighty  line  with  meanings  new, 

Like  when  the  Moon  swims,  full,  into  the  Night, 

And  what  was  dark  grows  clear,  and  what  was  void 

Peopled,  and,  white  and  straight,  the  road,  regained 

Winds  plain  and  easy  through  the  illumined  land. 

Also  I  saw  them  bring  the  sick  to  Him, 

The  maimed  and  miserable,  and  wretches  torn 

With  plaguing  devils — less  to  dread  than  mine  ! — 

Whom  all  He  healed,  comforting  them  with  words 

Of  sovereign  power,  calming  their  cries  and  griefs  ; 

As  when  the  Mother's  bosom  charms  to  smiles. 


144  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Before  its  tears  are  dry,  an  infant's  wail. 

A  woman  lay  in  Simon's  house,  alight 

With  fever's  fire.     I  saw  Him  take  her  hand, 

Quiet  the  leaping  blood,  still  the  hot  heart, 

And  lift  her,  cool  and  whole.     I  heard  Him  teach, — 

Sitting  in  Simon's  boat,  moored  by  those  sands 

Which  fringe  Bethsaida — making  plain  and  known 

That  farther  Kingdom,  nigh  unto  us  all, 

Yea,  '  at  our  very  gates.'     And  when  He  passed 

At  night-fall  to  the  Mountain,  communing 

With  Heaven,  which  loved   Him,  and   His  own  high 

soul, 
Under  the  stars — less  touched  by  taint  than  they  ! — 
It  was  as  though  another  golden  Sun 
Set,  from  our  eyes  :  till  darkness  fled  again 
And  brought  back  Dawn,  and  that  diviner  light 
Shed  from  Him. 

"  Ah,  the  Kingdom  !— We  of  old, 
Being  the  people  of  this  land,  had  served — 


■HI 

II 


The   Woman   who  was  a  Sinner. 

•And  he  said   unto  her,  thy  sins  are  foryiiven — LlKK   VII  :    4S. 


>^  OP  THE        • 

"EJHIVBHSITr; 


THE    ALABASTER    BOX.  I45 

If  service  were — that  God  of  Abraham 

Mild  to  his  own,  but  smiting  enemies, 

Hewing  them  hip  and  thigh,  for  Israel  ; 

That  Lord  of  Moses,  awful  on  the  Mount 

With  thunders  and  red  lightnings,  and  the  Law  ; 

Seen  in  the  Burning  Bush  ;  riding  the  storm  ; 

A  jealous,  dreadful,  distant  God.     We  lived 

Obeying — if  we  did  obey — for  fruit 

Of  earthly  goods  ;  or,  if  in  after  time, 

Then,  for  our  children's  children.     But  He  taught ; 

And,  lo!  ourselves  to  share!     Another  world 

Hidden  within,  without,  beyond!   He  took 

Terrors  away,  and  shewed  us  Life  for  Death, 

Mercy  for  Sacrifice,  and  Love  for  Law. 

For  that  dread  JAH,  ruling  o'er  Israel, 

A  Father  Universal,  marking  not 

Gentile  from  Jew,  or  fair  from  swart,  or  great 

From  small  ;  but  holding  all  alike  ;  and  heard — 

An  ever-present  Lover,  Lord,  and  Guide — 

In  conscience  and  the  silence  of  the  breast. 


146  THE    LIGHT    OF   THE    WORLD. 

Perfect  and  pure,  and  loving  love  of  such : 

And  willing  all  men  such  ;  but  waiting  long, 

Far-suffering,  large.  Compassionate,  aware ; 

Making  suns  rise  on  evil  and  on  good, 

Rains  fall  on  just  and  unjust.     Look  !  one  word  ! 

And  like  the  walls  of  Jericho  which  fell 

To  music,  or  a  sunshine-parted  cloud. 

He  burst  the  bars  ;  he  lightly  lifted  up 

Earth's  painted  Veil,  and  shewed  us, — close  beyond, 

Infinite,  clear, — eternal  life,  decreed 

Not  for  to-morrow,  or  hereafter — no  ! — 

Already  round,  and  in,  and  over  us, 

Already  ours  to  enter  and  possess  ; 

Always  existing,  always  nigh  ;  shut  off 

Some  little  while  by  sense,  which  having  eyes, 

Sees  not,  and  hearing,  hears  not  ;  for  some  while 

By  body  darkened.     But  He  said  ;  '  Fear  not 

Those  who  can  kill  the  body,  and,  on  that, 

Have  nothing  they  can  do  ! '  So  did  we  learn. 

Walking  in  those  dear  footsteps,  scorn  of  Death 


THE   ALABASTER    BOX.  I47 

Which  could  not  keep  its  Dead,  if  he  bade  yield, 
But  is  Life's  gate-porter,  holding  the  Keys 
To  larger  Worlds  and  larger  :  'many  mansions 
Are  in  My  Father's  House  !  '  this  would  He  say 
With  great  eyes  on  the  Stars. 

"Thus  did  He  bring 
Our  glad  souls  daily,  by  His  glorious  words, 
Into  the  Kingdom  of  the  Spirit.     There 
The  sorrowful  and  shamed  are  comforted  ; 
The  humble  are  exalted  ;  and  the  meek 
Inherit  good.     The  pure  in  heart  see  God  ; 
The  merciful  find  Mercy.     Those  that  wept 
Dry  their  glad  eyes  ;  the  peace-makers  have  praise  ; 
And  they  who  hungered  after  righteousness 
With    righteousness   are    filled.     No    dream  '    No 

draught 
Of  Fancy's  frenzied  wine-cup  ;  ecstacy 
Of  musing  drugged  with  Faith's  fine  mandragore  ! 
But  the  words  true  as  daylight ;  plain  and  straight 


148  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

The  way  as  paths  in  meadows  ;  clear  the  Voice 

Calling  to  airs  celestial,  as  of  Morn 

Bidding  his  breezy  lips  the  World  awake. 

Surer  than  any  joy  the  heart  can  know 

Bliss  of  that  sudden  hour  when  each  for  each 

Knows  Heaven  so  nigh  !  Only  to  let  go  Earth, 

To  let  go,  listen,  love,  and  have  : — for  them 

The  Kingdom  came  !  Came  !  and  we  did  not  need 

To  merit,  or  to  seek,  or  strive,  or  wait : 

We  needed  but  to  know  Him  one  with  God, 

And  we  with  Him,  and  then  His  peace  was  ours  ! 

We  heard  Him  utter,  '  Fear  not,  little  flock  ! 

It  is  your  Father's  joy  to  give  to  you 

The  Kingdom.' 

"  Journeying  hither  did'st  thou  mark 
The  two-horned  hill  which  overhangs  our  sea, 
Hattin?     And  how,  beneath  his  nearer  peak 
Spreads  a  fair  upland,  rimmed  with  rounded  banks 
Where  nebbuks  glisten,  and  dark  junipers. 


THE    ALABASTER    BOX.  I49 

Rose-laurels  blow,  and  mallows  ;  and  soft  grass 
Carpets  with  lily-sprinkled  green  the  spot? 
One  day,  before  the  Dawn,  thither  He  went 
And  drew  His  Twelve  with  Him,  those  who  should  be 
Close  to  his  counsels.     Then  He  named  them  His 
To  come  and  go  in  all  the  cities  here — 
Preaching  the  Kingdom — and  beyond  ; — and  be 
Beginnings  of  a  new-established  State, 
Greater  than  States,  and  governing  all  States  ; 
Which  could  not  have  for  boundaries  the  Seas, 
Mountains  or  streams,  nor  any  border-line 
By  bloody  sword-point  traced  ;  and  should  not  have 
Armies  nor  tributes,  treasuries  nor  crowns. 
But,  overleaping  races,  realms,  and  tongues. 
Thrones,  zones,  and  dominations,  lands  and  seas, 
Should  clasp  in  one  wide  confine  all  those  hearts 
Which  seek  and  love  the  Light,  and  hail  the  Light 
Shining  from  secret  Heaven,  by  Him  revealed 
First-born  of  Heaven,  first  soul  of  Human  souls 
That  touched  the  top  of  Manhood,  and — from  height 


ISO  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Of  Godlike,  pure  Humanity — reached  God. 
To  this  end  was  He  sent,  for  this  made  known 
Life  beyond  death,  Love  manifest  through  Law, 
I  And  God  no  name,  no  angry  Judge,  no  '  Jah  ' 
But  spirit,  worshipped  in  the  spirit  :  one 
With  His  sweet  spirit,  and  with  ours,  through  His  : 
Unseen,  unspeakable,  not  to  be  known 
By  searching  :  being  beyond  all  sight,  speech,  search  ; 
But  Lord  and  Lover  of  all  living  things, 
King  of  the  Kingdom  ! 

"And  a  multitude. 
Heedless  of  all  things  save  His  gracious  words, 
Followed  Him  to  the  mountain,  gathering 
By  troops  and  companies,  on  bank  and  mead. 
Till  all  the  grass  was  blotted  with  great  bands 
Of  gladsome  people,  clad  for  holiday. 
Like  divers-colored  flowers;  and,  all  around, 
Dark,  eager  faces  of  ten  thousand  folk — 
Men,  women,  children, — made  a  sunlit  throng 
So  thick,  so  talk-full,  on  the  asphodel, 


THE    ALABASTER    BOX.  151 

The  frightened  eagles  fled  their  crags; — the  snake 
Slid  to  his  hole;  the  wolf  and  panther  hid 
Ashamed  of  blood.     But  gentle  things  of  Earth, — 
The  crowned  lark,  and  the  dove,  and  mountain-hare, — 
'Ware  of  some  new  good  word  thro'  man  to  them — • 
Listened  through  thickets.     And  the  Morning  donned 
Amice  of  summer  gold — her  loveliest  — 
To  meet  His  holy  footsteps  on  the  Hill. 
And  there,  from  that  fair  Sinai,  with  Voice 
Sweeter  than  Morning's  breath,  He  gave  to  us 
The  New  Commandments. 

"  Eight  are  blest — He  taught — 
Of  that  dim   Kingdom, — which  men   thought  would 

march 
In  worldly  pomp,  bringing  Messiah  girt 
With   the  Lord's  sword,  triumphant;  his   right  hand 
Teaching  him  terrible  things;  all  Earth  to  hail 
Israel,  re-throned  with  scarlet  and  with  gold; 
The  Sea  to  pour  her  pearls  and  corals  forth 


152  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

At  foot  of  David's  Heir!     And,  lo  !  the  truth  ! — 
The  Kingdom  came  on  that  soft  mountain-slope, 
Not  with  the  battle-trumpets,  not  with  neigh 
Of  war-horse,  flecked  with  purple-foam,  and  neck 
Clothed  with  the  thunder;  but  by  this  mild  Voice 
Telling  how  lowly  souls  shall  be  the  Lords 
Of  the  New  Kingdom,  and  the  Sorrowful, 
The  meek,  the  seekers  after  righteousness. 
The  merciful,  the  just,  the  peace-makers. 
And  they  who  for  their  brothers'  sake,  and  Right, 
Have  suffered  persecution.     Oh,  sir  !  think; 
In   that  one  mountain  morning — at  one  word — 
All  our  world  changed  !     Poverty  rich  !  sick  hearts 
Comforted  !  those  who  weep  to  laugh  and  sing. 
This  earth  the  Ante-room  to  neighboring  Heaven; 
Wise  souls  its  salt;  pure  souls  its  lamps;  set  high 
Like  cities  upon  hills,  like  candlesticks 
Lighting  the  house  !     '  So  let  them  shine,'  He  said, 
*  That  men  see  your  good  works,  and  glorify 
Your  Father  in  the  heavens ! '     Next  He  did  teach 


THE    ALABASTER    BOX.  I53 

How  the  quick  Spirit  makes  true  living  Law, 
Under  the  letter:  how  the  unkind  thought 
Hath,  knifeless,  murdered  ;  how  the  altar  gift 
Lies  vain  and  hateful  when  the  hand  which  gives 
Hath  wrought  some  brother  wrong.      '  Leave   there,' 

He  said, 
'  Thy  gift  before  the  altar !  go  thy  way. 
Be  reconciled  with  him  ;  then  bring  thy  gift !' 
Deep  in  our  midmost  He  laid  bare  the  seeds 
Of  wrongfulness  ;  bade  us  wrench  root  away, 
Nor  idly  pinch  a  blossom  ;  since  the  eye 
Which  lusteth,  and  the  wish  that  would  have  wrought 
The  full  sin,  short  of  sinning.     Therewithal, 
Grave  words  of  grace  for  women  ;  marriage-bonds 
Not  to  be  lightly  loosed  ;  nay,  and  no  oath 
Oft-taken,  since  Truth's  oath  is  '  Yea  '  and  *  Nay  ' 
And  all  the  words  spoken  go  to  one  great  ear. 
Next,  sternly  sweet,  he  snatched  the  hasty  blade 
From  black  Revenge  ;  bade  vanquish  hate  by  Love  : 
Resist  not  evil  ;  turn  the  other  cheek 


154  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

To  whoso  smites  ;  cherish  an  enemy 

That,  peradventure,  he  may  grow  to  friend  ; 

If  not — then,  being  of  our  Father's  mind 

Who  hath  no  enemies,  but  makes  His  dawns, 

Each  time  He  makes  them,  for  the  good  and  ill, 

Giving  to  graceless  ones,  till  they  learn  grace  ; 

*  Perfect,  as  He  is  perfect.'     Then,  He  taught 

Almsgiving,  modesty,  simplicity 

And  solitude  to  praying  :  spake  Himself 

What  we  may  speak  upon  our  knees,  and  know 

Enough  is  said  to  that  Divinest  mind 

Which  saw  our  needs,  and  did  provide  for  them 

Ere  the  lips  stirred.     Furthermore,  soft  he  talked 

Of  the  world's  fleeting  treasures  '  where  the  moth 

And    rust   corrupt ;     and    thieves    break   thro'    and 

steal,' 
Counted  beside  true  wealth  of  worthy  deeds, 
Of  loving  service  rendered,  and  fair  days 
Lived  blameless,  like  to  sweet  air  passing  by. 
Also,  for  foolish  quest  of  fitful  gain, 


THE    ALABASTER    BOX.  155 

For  meat,  and  drink,  and  raiment,  and  much  heed 
Of  earthly  gear,  tenderly  shamed  He  us, 
Pointing  with  finger  at  those  little  birds 
Perched  nigh,  or  lightly  flitting.     *  See  !  *  said  he, 
*  Your  Father  feedeth  them,  who  gather  not.' 
And,  therewith,  from  his  foot  a  scarlet  stalk 
Of  martagon  He  plucked,  with  wind-flowers, — 
(Oh,  happy  blossoms  !  blown  to  help  him  teach) — 
Bidding  us  mark  how  great  King  Solomon, 
For  all  his  glory,  was  not  clad  like  those  ; 
And  how,  if  grass  on  the  lone  mountain-side 
Grows  unforgotten,  garlanded  so  rich 
From  Heaven's  full  almonry;  and  thrush,  and  finch, 
Feed  daily  from  Heaven's  hands,  it  could  not  be 
Man  should  go  bare,  poorer  than  fowls  of  air, 
Sadder  than  field-blooms.     '  Ye  have  need  of  these,' 
Gently  he  said  :  '  and  these  things  shall  be  given  : 
But  seek  ye  first  the  Kingdom  !  seek  ye  first 
The  treasure  of  the  Kingdom,  righteousness  ! 
Other  things  shall  be  added.' 


156  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

"Therewithal 
He  told  how  we  should  seek  ;  not  thrusting  in 
As  if  Heaven  heard  the  loudest  cry  ;  as  though 
The  gateway  of  the  Kingdom  must  be  forced, 
And  a  path  pushed  over  the  fallen  ones  : 
But  foremost  by  Renunciation,  first 
By  good-will  to  be  last  ;  by  help,  not  haste  ; 
By  eagerness  not  to  be  saved,  but  save. 
'Judge  not,  that  ye,  too,  be  not  judged,'  He  said, 
*  For,  as  ye  judge,  ye  must  be  judged.'     And,  then. 
Proclaimed  how  none  seek  vainly  :  soon  or  late 
The  seeker  finds,  the  asker  hath,  the  knock 
Makes  the  latch  lift,  whosoever  be  the  hand. 
'Else' — tenderly  He  smiled,  and  wistful  gazed 
On  mothers  suckling  black-eyed  babes,  and  sires 
Holding  their  brown  boys  high  to  see  and  hear, — 
Halving  one  barley-crust — '  else  were  you  men, 
Being  evil,  and  so  gentle,  not  the  less. 
To  these  your  children,  kinder  to  bestow 
Than  the  Bestower  !  more  to  praise  than  God  ! ' 


THE    ALABASTER    BOX.  157 

At  this — as  who  well  knew  what  idle  things 
Children  will  ask — and  men — he  drew,  in  gold, 
Plain  as  the  Sun's  long  line  across  the  Lake, 
Our  road  to  follow  :  'What  ye  would  that  men 
Should  do  to  you,  do  ye  likewise  to  them  ! 
The  law  is  this,     the  prophets  this  !' 

"  We  came 
Flocking  behind  Him,  down  that  Mount's  green  side, 
And  through  the  Vale  of  Doves,  past  Hattin's  peak, 
Over  Bethsaida  to  Capernaum, 
A  joyous  people,  heart-whole  with  His  words  ; 
Like  sheep  knowing  their  Shepherd,  gladly  led 
To  fold  from  pasture. 

**  More  than  all  He  wrought 
Journeying,  or  in  His  city,  those  dear  words 
Uttered  upon  the  Mount,  stripped  my  soul  bare, 
Shewed  me  myself.     Yet  He  would  make  us  see 
Power  hand  in  hand  with  Wisdom  and  with  Love  ; 


158  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

For,  next  morn,  down  our  silver  Mere  He  sailed 

To  Nain,  by  Endor  ;  where  a  ragged  road 

Winds,  under  Tabor,  to  the  village-gate, 

By  tangled  sidra-trees,  and  sepulchres 

Cut  in  the  rock  for  the  old  dead  and  new. 

And,  when  we  neared  the  gateway,  lo  !  a  throng — • 

Wailing,  with  covered  mouths,  dust  on  their  heads, 

Clad  in  sad  garments — bore  a  dead  man  forth, 

The  one  son  of  a  Widow.     She,  a-mort, 

Broke  with  such  woe  as  hath  no  help  on  earth, 

Followed  the  painted  coffin  where  he  lay 

Who  was  her  glory  and  her  good  in  life. 

With  those  young,  helpful,  loving  hands  tight-bound 

Never  to  help  again  !  and  sweet  boy-face 

Swathed  in  the  grave-cloth,  sightless.     But  her  eyes 

Fixed  on  his  face,  thro'  the  fast-trickling  tears 

Which  still  she  wiped  away,  lest  Sorrow  cheat 

Love  from  one  last  dear  moment  of  the  Dead. 

Whom  Jesus  marked  ;  and,  while  we  held  aloof, 

Since  'tis  uncleanness  if  one  touch  a  corpse. 


THE    ALABASTER    BOX.  I59 

He  laid  his  gentle  palm  upon  the  bier, 

And  bade  its  bearers  stand.     Then,  speaking  sweet 

To  that  sad  Mother  :  '  Weep  no  more  ! '     He  said, 

And  gazed  upon  the  dead — gazed — gathered  up 

Pity  and  Power  and  Grace  in  one  great  look, 

Which  beamed  so  tender  and  so  masterful 

Hardly  we  marveled  at  what  next  befell : 

For,  while  the  hushed  crowd  closed,  softly  we  heard 

'Arise,  young  Man  !    I  say.'     The  Dead  sate  up, 

And  with  his  own  hand  drew  the  face-cloth  off. 

And  stared  ;  and  murmured  words  ;  and  reached  his 

arms 
To  Jesus,  and  stepped,  trembling,  from  the  bier, 
And,  while  fear  fell  upon  us,  lo  !  the  Boy 
Led,  living,  to  his  Mother,  and  her  arms 
Locked  round  him  ;  not  the  dark  walls  of  the  Tomb  ! 
But  only  Jesus  of  that  multitude 
Silent,  and  calm,  and  smiling. 

"  Then  I  knew 


l6o  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

My  Master  and  my  Lord  ;  and,  all  my  heart 

Burned  so  with  worship  that  the  blessed  flame 

Purged  it  of  sin,  and  shame,  and  sorrow, — left 

Only  the  gold  behind  of  grateful  ache 

To  praise  and  thank  and  love  and  honor  Him  ; 

To  follow  Him  with  humblest  service  still 

Through  life  and  death.     That  night  He  lay  at  meat 

In  Simon's  house,  in  my  own  city  here, — 

It  stands  there  yonder  with  the  three  white  domes — 

And,  'midst  the  others,  I,  too,  entered  in, 

Bearing  my  box,  the  costliest  thing  I  owned, 

Holding  much  precious  spikenard,  subtly  pressed 

From  flower  and  root  of  delicatest  growth 

By  some  far  river  in  thy  distant  Hind." 

"I   know"  —  the  Buddhist   said  —  "that    sumbul- 
tree, 
The  '  jatamansi.'     And  our  Indian  Bee 
Stays  in  her  flight,  full-laden,  but  to  plunge — 
Honey-drunk — in  the  perfumed  wealth  of  it." 


-_J 


Jairus's  Daughter. 

Damsel,  I  say  unto  thee,  arise  ! — Mark  V  :    41. 


^J^^^s^ 


OP  THE 


'UKI7BRSIT7] 


THE    ALABASTER    BOX.  161 

"  Sir  !     It  is  sweet  as  were  all  words  from  Him; 
The  pity  of  Heaven  made  fragrance  !     When  I  stood 
Unnoticed  at  His  feet,  dropping  hot  tears 
Which  ran  on  them,  wiping  my  tears  away 
With  these  unbraided  hairs,  ashamed  to  moist 
Such  sacred  palms  with  water  from  such  source; 
I  would  not  merely  lift  the  seal  of  silk 
That  shut  the  casket's  lid,  and  spill  the  spice; 
Lest  somewhere,  afterwards,  some  others  use 
My  box, — His  box, — for  something  ill  again. 
But  on  the  stones  I  broke  the  dainty  work. 
And  from  these  ruined  fragments  poured  forth  all 
Over  His  feet,  with  many  a  fervent  kiss 
Adoring,  and  anointing.     Then,  there  spread 
The  long-imprisoned  spirit  of  that  balm 
To  every  quickened  nostril  at  the  feast; 
And  he  that  was  its  master,  spake — half  heard — 
'  My  guest,  the  Prophet,  being  such,  should  wist 
Who  and  what  manner  of  a  wench  it  is 
Which  toucheth  Him,  for  she  is  Miriam  !' 


l62  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

And  I, — who  in  my  pride  and  sin  of  old 
Had  cursed  the  Pharisee;  grown  wiser  now, 
Humbler,  and  conscious  of  my  shame,  and  cleansed 
From  my  seven  devils — gathered  meek  these  shards 
And  prayed  him  pardon,  and  was  turned  to  go." 

"  More  grace  thou  hadst,  fair  Daughter  !  than  thy 
Jew," 
Broke  in  the  Indian. 

"  Nay,  Sir  !  but  I  saw, 
Blacker  than  Simon,  how  my  sins  must  show 
At  those  white  feet  !     Then  my  Lord,  piteously, 
Gazed  on  me,  took  my  wrist,  and  drew  me  back  ; 
And,  while  I  kneeled  beside  Him — glad  to  drop 
My  long  black  guilty  hairs  over  mine  eyes — 
Searchingly  spake  He  :  *  Simon,  answer  me  ! ' 

"  '  Rabbi  !  speak  on,'  the  Pharisee  replied. 
My  sweet  Lord  said  :  *  There  lived  a  creditor 


THE    ALABASTER    BOX.  163 

Had  debtors  twain  :  one  owed  five  hundred  pence ; 
The  other  fifty.     Having  nought  to  pay 
He  did  forgive  them  both.     How  sayest  thou  ; 
Which  debtor  loved  him  best?' 

"*I  shall  suppose,' 
Murmured  the  Feast-master,  '  'twas  he  to  whom 
The  creditor  remitted  most.' 

"  My  Lord 
Smiled  and  spake  soft  :  'Aye,  thou  hast  rightly 

judged ! 
Look  on  this  woman  well !     I — being  thy  guest — 
Lacked  foot-water  of  thee  ;  she  made  it  good, 
Washing  my  feet  with  tears  :  lacked  linen  cloths 
To  wipe  them  ;  and  she  made  it  good  with  locks 
Of  untressed  hair  :  lacked  guest-kiss  on  the  cheek ; 
She  with  a  hundred  kisses  made  it  good, 
Rained  on  my  feet,  and  then  a  hundred  more, 
Not  ceasing  from  the  time  I  entered  in  ; 


164  THE    LIGHT    OF   THE    WORLD. 

Lacked  on  my  head  that  oil  which  should  anoint ; 

But  she  upon  my  feet  hath  spilt  the  wealth 

Of  kingly  spikenard.     Wherefore,  this  I  say  : — 

Her  sins — her  many  sins — are  wiped  away, 

Even  as  from  these  my  feet  her  tears  were  wiped  ; 

For  she  loved  much  !     But  where  forgivingness 

Is  little,  love  is  little.'     Oh,  with  that, 

Made  he  from  Simon,  and  upon  me  bent 

Those  eyes  that  mastered  Death  at  Nain  ;  those  eyes 

That  melted  at  the  children  on  the  Mount ; 

Those  eyes,  like  stars,  with  love  for  radiant  beam. 

And — ah  ! — beyond  all  music  ever  heard — 

Fell  dulcet  on  mine  ears  :  '  Go  thou  in  peace  ! 

Thy  faith  hath  saved  thee  !     Go  in  peace  !     Thy  sins 

Are  all  forgiven  !  * 

"  They  who  sate  at  meat 
Muttered  thereat :  *  Who  is  this  Nazarene 
Also  forgiveth  sins  ?     Who  ?  ' 


THE    ALABASTER   BOX.  165 

"But  He  turned 
Tenderly  once  again  ;  and  spake  again, 
'  Thy  faith  hath  saved  thee  !     Go  in  peace  !    Thy  sins 
Are  all  forgiven  ! ' 

"  And,  from  that  glad  hour, 
Followed  I  Him,  and  ministered  to  Him  ; 
And  found  myself  alive  who  had  been  dead, 
And  saved  by  Love,  who  dwelt  so  lovelessly." 


BooJ?  4, 


THE    PARABLES. 


"  Ofttimes,  dear  Lady!  while  I  listened  close" 

(Next  morn  the  Indian  said)  "  loth,  by  one  stop, 

To  mar  such  noble  music — I  had  will 

To  tell  thee  how  the  great  Tathagata 

Spake  many  things  in  one  mind  with  thy  Lord. 

Methought  I  heard  our  holy  Books  unroll, 

Line  after  line,  as  thou  didst  featfully 

Recite  those  sayings  on  the  Mount.     He,  too. 

Bade  us  not  hate,  but  love  ;  and  conquer  Hate 

With  Love  ;  and  let  light  cares  of  Life  go  by 

Careless,  because  it  is  a  show,  which  cheats  ; 
167 


l68  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

And  earthly  treasures  fade  ;  and  he  is  rich 

Who  lays  up  riches,  in  the  Realm  beyond, 

Of  deeds  done  well,  and  gentle  service  wrought, 

And  days  without  injuriousness.     Mark,  too. 

Our  Buddha  would  not  know  of  enemies 

More  than  thy  Master.     He  commanded  us 

'  If  one  upon  the  left  shall  wound  thy  hand. 

And  one  upon  the  right  shall  bathe  thy  hand 

With  sandal-oil,  and  kiss  it,  bear  to  each 

The  same  mild  heart!     So  shall  the  smiter  love, 

Or — if  not — vainly  hate  thee!  '     Charity, 

Mercy,  and  meekness,  taught  He: — for  Love's  sake 

Utmost  renunciation.     Once  it  fell 

Buddh  to  a  starving  tigress  gave  his  flesh  ; 

Not  fearing  loss,  for  never  can  Love  lose. 

Yet,  truly,  nowise  have  we  known  before 

Wisdom  so  packed  and  perfect  as  thy  Lord's, 

Giving  that  Golden  Rule  that  each  shall  do 

Unto  his  fellow  as  he  would  have  done 

Unto  himself  ;  for,  then,  this  earth  were  Heaven, 


THE    PARABLES.  169 

And  equity  in  every  breast  throned  King. 
Also  right  joyous  goes  His  doctrine  ;  glad 
Mid  Life's  sad  charms,  and  swift  vicissitudes, 
And  Death's  unshunned  and  hard  perplexities 
Which  make  men  bear  to  live.     But  Buddha  held 
Life  was  long  sorrow,  ignorantly  prized. 
Grievously  re-assumed  from  change  to  change  ; 
Whirling  sad  souls  upon  the  Wheel,  unsaved 
Until  they  stay  it,  staying  lust  of  days  ; 
Ceasing  to  drink  the  false  salt  wave  which  breeds  \ 
Worse  thirst — and  wilder  Trishna  : — quit  of  quests,  ^ 
And  gliding,  passionless  and  purged  and  sane, 
Back  to  that  Infinite  where  Silence  lives. 
OM  MANI  PADME  !— '  f rom  the  lotus-leaf 
The  Dew-drop  gliding  to  the  shining  Sea, 
When  Sunrise  comes  ! '  " 

But  Mary's  great  eyes  gleamed, 
Crying  :  "  Oh,  Sir!  in  those  good  opening  days 
We  were  as  glad  as  maids  at  marriage-time  ;         ) 


i^ 


V 


lyo  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

As  jocund  as  the  bird  that  hangs  his  heart — 
Bursting    with    song — midway    'twixt    Earth    and 

Heaven, 
And  hath,  to  ravish  it,  the  sky  all  his 
Up  to  the  utmost  Blue,  and,  green  below, 
The  Earth  his,  down  to  that  one  dearest  nook, 
The  little  happy  hollow  in  the  grass 
Where  his  mate  listens  on  her  warm  grey  eggs 
In  woven  nest.     So  owned  we  two  wide  Worlds, 
Following  behind  Him,  over  Galilee. 
Nay,  and  those  never  knew  my  Master's  mind, 
Nor  touched  the  golden  hem  of  what  He  taught, 
Nor  tasted  honied  lesson  of  His  lips. 
Who  drew  not  from  the  treasure  of  those  lips 
Joyance  to  make  him  glad  to  live  or  die  ! 
Wistful  and  woeful  may  well  go,  I  know. 
The  days  of  those  who,  driven  by  the  winds 
Of  strife,  and  avarice,  and  lust  of  eye, 
Chase,  what  shall  never  be  attained  on  Earth, 
Contentment  with  the  joys  which  are  of  Earth. 


THE    PARABLES.  I71 

Who  knows,  but  Miriam  of  Magdala, 

How  the  red  bubbles,  bursting  on  the  wine, 

Foretell,  at  the  cup's  bottom,  bitterness? 

Truly,  such  souls  are  like  our  'galgal '  ^  here — 

If  thou  hast  seen  it, — the  wild  artichoke. 

Which  putteth  forth  brave  branches  in  the  Spring, 

Dying  at  Autumn  into  dusky  globes 

That  break,  and  fall,  and  roll,  all  helplessly, 

Ten  score  together  in  a  leaping  crowd, 

O'er  hill  and  vale,  bounding  like  things  possessed  ; 

Till  the  thorns  take  them,  or  the  wrathful  sea. 

The  Desert-rider  reins  his  frightened  beast 

As  'the  accursed  '  whirls,  and  cries  in  scorn  : 

'  Oh  !  Galgal  !  whither  goest  thou  to  lodge  ? ' 

And  the  dry,  miserable  ball  replies  : 

'  Where  the  wind  lodgeth  for  the  night,  I  lie  ! ' 


"  But  we,  who  learned  of  Him  the  happy  way. 
Whom  never  once  again  Earth's  wind  can  drive, 


•Called  by  the  Araba  of  Falestine—el-akkis. 


172  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

What  is  it  if  we  die  ?  whose  eyes  have  seen 
There  is  no  death  !     What  is  it  if  we  live 
A  little  woe-begone,  when  He  hath  passed 
Patiently  all  our  path,  changing  its  stones 
To  rubies,  and  to  rose-blooms  all  its  thorns, 
With  bright  blood  of  His  vainly-wounded  feet  ? 
What  lover  of  Him  shall  be  sad  again 
Seeing  the  Father  through  Him,  touching  hands 
Of  that  large  love  which  reaches  out  from  Heaven, 
In  His  pierced  palms  ?  He  told  us  not  one  bird 
Folds  failing  wings,  and  shuts  bright  eyes  to  die, 
But  That  which  gave  their  stations  to  the  stars, 
And  marked  the  Seas  their  limits,  and  the  Sun 
His  shining  road,  signed  soft  decree  for  this, 
And  did  in  pity  plan  kind  consequence. 
*  Yet  you  ' — lightly  He  spake — *  are  of  more  worth 
Than  many  sparrows  ! '     Oh,  good  Friend  !  that  soul 
Hath  done  with  sadness  which  knows  Christ  aright  ; 
Not  as  Fear  reads,  but  as  quick  Love  reveals. 
Also  I  think  the  worst  shall  scarcely  miss 


THE    PARABLES.  173 

At   end  of  evil,  when  Despair  will  lead 
Souls  to  His  feet,  which  would  not  come  for  Love. 
Hardly,  I  hope,  shall  bloody  Herod  fail, 
Nor  Judas,  who  betrayed  Him  with  the  kiss, 
Nor  Pilate,  who,  for  Caesar,  saw  Him  slain  ; 
Nor  any,  at  the  last ;  since  Grace  and  power 
Measureless,  which  forbid  men's  hearts  to  hate, 
Themselves  can  never  hate,  nor  finally. 
See  their  sweet  purpose  foiled. 

"  But,  in  those  days, 
We  were  the  Children  of  the  Bride-chamber, 
That  could  not  fast,  nor  weep  !     Joy  walked  with  us! 
Mark  with  thine  eyes  what  Land  this  is  in  Spring  ! 
The  meadows  cloth  of  gold,  damasked  and  decked 
With  silk-leaved  country-blossoms,  and  the  hills 
Girt  with  green  forests,  and  with  budding  vines, 
Their  feet  set  deep  in  barley-fields,  and  groves 
Of  fig  and  olive  ;  where  another  world 
Of  sunshine-loving  peoples  live  :  the  Doves, 


174  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

The  painted  finches,  and  the  crested  larks, 

Brook-tortoises,  and  storks,  with  busy  swarms 

Of  banded  bees,  crickets,  and  creeping  things, 

Nowise  forgotten,  taking  share  of  Earth. 

He  led  us— Lord  of  lovely  pastorals — 

Through  these  fair  paths,  grown  to  seem  Paradise, 

Heaven  being  so  near.     Women  and  children  drew — 

Bright  with  the  light  of  Love's  new  Kingdom  come — 

Into  His  train;  and  gave  Him  laughing  guards 

Of  little  ones,  who  clustered  round  His  knees — 

Wiser  and  bolder  than  we  others  were — 

Of  dark-eyed,  wistful  Syrian  wives  and  maids. 

Glad  to  be  poor,  because  he  loved  the  poor 

And  made  them  wealthy  with  His  word.     The  Lake, 

The  lonely  peaks,  the  valleys,  lily-lit. 

Were  synagogues.     The  simplest  sights  we  met — 

The  Sower  flinging  seeds  on  loam  and  rock; 

The  darnel  in  the  wheat;  the  mustard-tree 

That  hath  its  seed  so  little,  and  its  boughs 

Wide-spreading;  and  the  wandering  sheep;  and  nets 


THE    PARABLES.  175 

Shot  in  the  wimpled  waters — drawing  forth 
Great  fish  and  small  ; — these,  and  a  hundred  such, 
Seen  by  us  daily,  yet  never  seen  aright. 
Were  pictures  for  Him  from  the  page  of  life, 
Teaching  by  parable. 

"  For  nowise  else 
Taught  He  the  people;  since  a  light  is  set 
Safest  in  lanterns;  and  the  things  of  Earth 
Are  copies  of  the  things  in  Heaven,  more  close. 
More  clear,  more  near,  more  intricately  linked, 
More  subtly,  than  men  guess.     Mysterious, — 
Finger  on  lip, — whispering  to  wistful  ears, — 
Nature  doth  shadow  Spirit.     Subjects,  kings, 
Diversities,  degrees,  prophets,  and  poets; 
Lovers,  together  drawn  invisibly 
Like  orbs  that  cleave  across  the  Void;  the  babe 
Who,  coming  helpless,  finds  its  mother's  breast 
Safe  nursery  and  sweet  food;  the  seed  which  dies 
That  it  may  live,  laughing  with  lightsome  blade 
Death's  dread  away;  the  darkness  which  would  daunt 


176  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Save  that  it  shews — what  Day  concealed-  -the  stars; 
The  sleep  which  gives  us  back  the  body's  strength, 
But  leaves  the  dreaming  soul  sleepless  and  'ware, 
Comforting  nightly  with  grave's  counterfeit; 
Death  without  dying — living,  but  not  Life  ! 
The  steadfast,  onward-moving  march  of  Change 
In  use  and  beauty;  yea!  and  what  obstructs 
Of  harm  and  evil — for  our  World  must  grow 
By  Love's  slow  conquest  of  the  stubborn  will, 
Free  to  will  wrongly : — these  be  parables 
Forever  murmuring  wider  wonders,  hints 
Of  what  hides  inner,  deeper.     What  is  like 
Is  likely  ;  and  the  Life  to  come  will  be 
Of  such  a  fashion  as  this  Life  to-day 
Writes  in  still  symbols.     Did  we  deem  our  fields 
Tilled  for  no  crop  save  what  the  sickle  reaps  ? 
He  made  them  shew  how  Heav'n's  wise  husbandry 
Sets  good  seed  growing  ;  parts  the  tares  and  wheat  ; 
Winnows  the  chaff  away.     Did  some  man  find 
Hid  shekels  in  a  field — old  buried  gold 


The  Lord's  Presence. 


-Where  two  or  three  are  gathered  together  in  my  iKtine,  there  am  I  in  the  midst  of  them. 

Matth.   XVII  I:    20. 


THE    PARABLES.  I  77 

Forgot  of  mouldering  owner  in  the  tomb — 
And  buy  the  field,  selling,  for  joy  thereof,  ■ 
All  that  he  had  ?     He  made  us  therefrom  see 
How  sweet  it  is  to  want  all  sweetnesses. 
Winning  the  Sweetest  ;^  and  how  cheap  to  own 
What's  priceless  at  a  price  ;  how  light  to  part 
With  all  we  clove  to  once,  gaining  thereby 
The  treasure  of  the  Kingdom.     Did  there  come 
Pearl-merchants  out  of  Persia,  trafficking 
All  their  white  findings  for  one  moonlight  gem, 
Fished  fortunate  in  Ormuz,  or  by  reef, 
Deadly  and  ragged,  of  the  Sea  of  Suph, 
Fit  for  the  neck  of  Caesar's  Emperess  ? 
He  made  them  teach  us  how  to  fling  aside 
Small  pearls  for  great.     That  corn,  sown  secretly, 
Unseen  at  eve,  but,  when  we  passed  at  Morn, 
Greening  the  headlands,  'twas  His  text  to  tell 


'  Cf.  St.  August.  Confess. — "  Qiiam  suave  mihi  subito  factum  est  carer« 
suavitate,  et  fjuas  a7nittere  7netusfuerat  jam  dimittere  gaudium  eral  ;  Oh, 
Vera  Tu  et  sumnia  Suavitas  !  " 


178  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

How  Still  and  sure  the  good  deed  grows  i '  the  dark, 
And  shall  not  fail  of  fruit  in  his  full  time. 
The  shepherd  whom  we  met  in  Gadara 
Joyously  striding  as  he  brought  to  fold 
That  one  lost  lamb  out  of  the  hundred  sheep 
On  his  own  shoulders,  leaving  lone,  meanwhile. 
The  ninety  and  nine,  safe  in  fat  pasturage, 
Passed  piping  on,  not  knowing  he  was  grown 
Type  for  us  of  the  Eternal  Love  which  seeks 
Strays  of  the  flock  ;  and  will  not  have  them  lost 
For  all  its  Saints  ;  and  will  not  spare  its  toil, 
'Mid  thorns  and  thickets,  till  it  find  and  save  ; 
Then  makes  more  joy  in  Heaven  for  one  lost  sheep 
Brought  home,  than  all  the  folded  ewes  and  rams 
Knee  deep  in  grass  of  Paradise.     And,  once — 
New  from  Persea,  o'er  the  star-lit  sea 
Sailing  with  Simon  to  this  city's  gates — 
We  spied  a  marriage-party  : — torch,  and  lamp. 
And  cresset, — flaring  with  great  cedar-knots, — 
Dancing  like  fire-flies  through  Capernaum 


THE    PARABLES.  179 

To  jocund  music  of  much  pipe  and  drum. 

But— for  the  Bridegroom  tarried— certain  maids 

Had  slumbered  ;  let  their  lamps  die  ;  and  their  wail— 

'  Alalalai  !  No  light  !  and,  lo,  he  comes  !  '— 

Was  loud,  because  the  wedding-doors  stood  closed. 

Small  thought  those  slothful  damsels  had  their  rout, 

Hither  or  thither  hurrying,  gowns  ungirt, 

Lamps  swinging  lightless,  and  th'  uncared-for  cry, 

•  Oil  !  Sisters  !  lend  us  oil  ! '  should  thesis  give 

For  fable  of  the  Wise  and  Foolish  Ones  ; 

The  souls  that  wait  and  watch  ;  the  souls  that  drowse 

Letting  Life's  wick  burn  down  ;  till  midnight  comes, 

And  here's  the  Bridegroom,  with  his  feastful  friends, 

But,  look  !  no  light  !  and  entrance  quite  forbid  ! 

'Watch,  therefore,'  spake  He,  'for  ye  know  nor  day 

Nor  hour.' 

•'  Yet  most  He  loved  to  teach  of  Love. 
Wherefore  the  tale  was  of  a  certain  man 
Dwelling— (we  knew  him)— by  Tiberias, 


l8o  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

That  had  two  sons.     And  one,  the  Prodigal, 
Had  asked  his  portion,  gathered  it,  and  went 
To  some  far  country  where  he  wasted  all 
In  riotous  living  ;  till  the  ill  times  fell. 
And  he  had  nought,  and  herded  swine,  and  filled 
His  belly  with  the  husks.     Sitting  at  meat 
In  Simon's  house,  our  Master  took  this  tale, 
And  featly  decked  it  forth  with  Wisdom's  wealth, 
Relating  how  that  son  'came  to  himself 
And  cried  :  '  I  will  arise  and  go  unto 
My  Father,  and  will  say  that  I  have  sinned, 
Sinned  against  Heaven,  and.  Father  !  before  thee, 
And  am  not  worthy  to  be  called  thy  Son, 
Only  thy  hireling  servant !  Make  me  that  ! ' 
Then  he  arose,  and  came.     And,  oh  !  what  heart 
Throbbed  not  amongst  us,  while  the  Master  told 
Tenderly, — meaning  all  the  world  to  hear, — 
How — yet  a  long  way  off — his  Father  saw, 
Saw  him,  and  had  compassion  ;  nay — and  ran. 
And  fell  upon  his  neck,  and  kissed  the  boy 


THE    PARABLES.  lol 

Mouth  to  mouth,  Father's  lips  on  Son's  lips  pressed, 
Staying  his  words  of  sorrowful  self-blame 
With  dear  impatience  ;— leading  us  to  learn 
That  God's  love  rupneth  faster  than  our  feet 
To  meet  us  stealing  back  to  Him  and  peace. 
And  kisses  dumb  our  shame,  nay,  and  puts  on 
The  best  robe,  bidding  Angels  bring  it  forth, 
While  Heaven  makes  festival ;  for  Angel's  meat 
Is  happiness  of  man. 

"  In  such  wise.  He — 
Plucking  His  themes,  as  Syrian  girls  pull  flowers 
To  spell  dear  names,  and  speak  the  gentlest  words, 
From  common  wayside  things  in  Galilee — 
Taught  us  by  Parable." 

The  Indian  cried  : 
"  Thou  Wise  One  !  who  didst  sojourn  in  the  Wild  ; 
And  feed  the  swine  from  fairest  hands  ;  and  ache 
With  hunger  for  thine  own  fine  food  of  Truth, 


I02  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

With  waste  of  Love  and  Life  ;  and  didst  arise, 

And  find  forgiving  arms,  and  take  that  kiss 

Silencing  shame  !     Now  doth  thy  bright  soul  wear 

A  better  beauty  than  dead  Pappus  saw, 

Or  love-sick  Praetors  !     Whence  are  words  to  thank 

These  words  which  teach  me  where  thy  Jesus  filled 

The  leaf  of  wisdom  in,  and  wrote  for  men 

The  Name  Lord  Buddha  would  not  say  nor  spell  ? 

Sweet  stories,  nathless,  might  thy  servant  cite 

From  Buddha's  lips  ;  teaching,  as  these  do  teach, — 

By  speech  of  Ganges,  not  of  Galilee, — 

How  good  seed  grows  to  good,  ill  seed  to  ill, 

Secretly  ;  and  the  Treasure  of  the  Law 

How  well  it  is  to  buy  it  at  World's  cost, 

If  all  this  World  were  chrysolite,  and  ours  : 

And  how  Death  is  not — being  new  life  masked, 

Lest  we  long  over-much  to  die,  and  lose 

Purpose  of  Earth  : — but  Change,  forever  Change  ! 

From  seed,  by  darkness,  to  the  blade  again  ; 

From  life,  by  rest  and  recompense,  to  life, 


THE    PARABLES.  183 

From  forms,  by  Karma,  to  some  other  form  ; 
Wliich  wheel  shall  whirl,  till  the  awakened  soul 
Like  a  caged  callow  eagle,  passion-caught, 
Knows  itself  ;  and,  indignant,  spreads  its  wings 
For  that  unbounded  quiet  where  is  Home. 
Thus  did  Buddh  teach  ;  and  high  Ahinsas  rule 
To  do  no  wrong,  but  bear  wrongs  patiently; 
Yet  this  to  conquer  Ignorance  ;  to  break 
From  sense  ;  to  find  that  farther,  truer  World 
Which  shines — thou  sayest  it — beyond  the  seen. 
Yea!     This  to  serve  the  self,  and  save  the  soul, 
Reaching  Nirvana  ;  where  what  seemed  so  dear, — 
Love — lieth  dumb  as  Hate  ;  Life  dead  as  Death  ; 
And  the  vast  voice  of  endless  ecstacy 
Is  silence,  and  its  Day  eternal  dream. 
Who  reigneth  at  that  centre  of  the  cirque, 
Him  named  he  not,  nor  would  he  lift  to  Him 
Prayers  which  were  vain,  if  th'  All-knowing  loves, 
If  th'  All-Loving  knows.     Denying  not, 
AfBrming  not ;  but  finding  no  Word  fit 


184  THE    LIGHT    OF   THE    WORLD. 

Saving  the  Wordless,  the  '  Immeasurable.' 

But  thou,  reporting  from  thy  Master's  mouth. 

On  that   Void    stretching    from   thought's    farthest 

flight 
As  far  into  the  purple  deeps  of  Night 
As  the  last  star — and  farther — dost  inscribe 
This  mighty  name  of  '  Love,'  and  biddest  believe 
Not  law,  not  fate,  not  fore-ordained  course 
Hath  moulded  what  we  are,  and  built  the  worlds  ; 
But  living,  regnant  Love  ;  dimly  discerned 
In  glories  of  this  house  of  Earth  we  own, 
Paved  with   green  meads  and   seas,  and  roofed  with 

Heaven  ; 
Dimly  discerned  in  lovely  shows  that  live 
To  whisper  lovelier  wonders;  youth  and  strength, 
The  light  of  lustrous  limbs,  and  laughing  eyes, 
Man's  might  and  woman's  beauty;  clouds  and  flowers; 
Jewels  and  birds;  and  all  fair  things  for  use. 
Nor  will  thy  matchless  Master  have  this  Love 
Marred  anyway  by  evil;  any  whit 


THE    PARABLES.  185 

Hindered  by  hating.     Hate  and  evil  hang, — 

So  must  I  gather — but  as  darkness  hangs, 

When  dawn,  which  broadens,  is  not  rosy  yet. 

It  shall  not  fg,il  to  gleam,  dispelling  glooms. 

And,  for  the  lingering  of  that  Sun  of  Love 

Which  is  to  brighten  all,  'tis  Night!  we  dream! 

And  Time  and  Doubt  portions  of  that  false  dream! 

Nor  would  thy  Master  have  one  little  life 

Forgotten  of  this  Love  divine.     He  sees 

His  Father's  universes  clustering  close 

Round  the  poor  bird  which  dies — to  minister 

With  winds  that  fan  it,  and  with  dews  that  bathe  ; 

Those  viewless  forces,  holding  worlds  at  work. 

Subservient  to  the  meanest  thing  in  life. 

And  death,  and  after  dying.     Therefore  more, 

Much  more  to  Man,  Earth's  Lord,  and  King  of  things. 

Also,  who  enters — if  I  gather  well — 

Into  this  kingdom,  in  thy  Master's  train, 

Hath,  for  its  secret,  not  to  love  himself  ; 

Nor  seek  to  save  himself  ;  nor — lonely — wend 


l86  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Over  dead  duties  and  affections  slain, 

Towards  such  Nirvana  ;  but  to  cherish  still 

His  neighbor  as  himself  ;  and  save  his  soul 

By  losing  heed  of  it,  in  heedful  care 

That  all  his  doings  profit  men,  and  help 

The  sorrowful  to  hope,  the  weak  to  stand  ; 

With  heart,  soul,  mind,  and  strength  loving  this  God, 

Whom  yet  I  reach  not,  tho'  the  foot  of  thought 

Treads  step  for  step  with  Christ  in  Galilee. 

How  fits  with  such  a  God  the  loveless  strife 

Of  all  things  living?  In  the  jungle,  look  ! 

What  slaughter!    and  without  it  not  a  meal 

For  the  young  vultures,  or  the  tiger-cubs. 

Nay,  over  all  thy  Realm  of  Love  this  rules  ; — 

Each  slays  a  slayer,  and  in  turn  is  slain. 

How  fits,  with  Love,  this,  and  the  wrongs  of  men 

Too  desperate  for  any  right  to  atone  ; 

The  woes  too  hard  ever  to  recompense  ; 

The  dried,  but  dreadful,  unforgotten  tears  ; 

The  agonies  intolerable,  yet  seen, 


THE    PARABLES.  iSy 

Yet  suffered,  (thou  didst  say  so)  by  that  Power 
Who  tends  the  little  bird,  but  gives  it  o'er 
Helpless  and  piping  to  the  Falcon's  beak  ? 
If  these  things  need  not  be,  doth  He  not  play 
With  His  poor  Earth  ?  Shall  it  not  fling  Him  back 
His  after  bliss,  indignant?  If  aught  lets. 
And  He  that  made  them  cannot  help  his  Worlds — 
Or,  only  by  slow  schemes,  and  painful  paths, — 
Shall  we  not  scorn  to  call  Him  powerful  ; 
Or  ask  to  see  Him  nearer,  and  know  more  ?  " 

"  Wise  Friend  !  "  She  sighed,  "  that  which  thou  say- 
est  now 
Was — over-eager — said.     One  of  our  Twelve, — 
One  golden  morning  when  the  Earth  seemed  His — 
By  reason  of  those  glorious  works, — and  Heaven 
A  Garden  parted  by  the  Blue,  whose  key 
Hung  at  His  girdle — pressed  Him  close,  and  spake  : 
'  Show  us  the  Father,  Lord  !  '     But  He  replied. 
With  grave  eyes  looking  greatly  past  our  light, 


lots  THE    LIGHT    OF   THE    WORLD. 

*  No  man,  at  any  time,  hath  seen  Him  !  None  ! 

Nor  shall  ye  see  Him  nearer  than  by  Me 

Who  am  His  Son  ! '  And,  on  another  day, 

Spake    He  :      *  So   long   hast    thou    been    with    m 

here, 
And  not  yet  known  Me,  Peter  ?     Who  hath  seen 
Him  that  was  sent,  hath  seen  the  Sender  ? '    Sir  ! 
We  did  suppose, — what  thy  large  learning  holds, — 
The  Unnamed  thereby  shewn  the  Infinite, 
Incomprehensible,  Unspeakable, 
Forever  and  forever  unapproached. 
And  yet  forever  and  forever  near 
In  loving  immanence  ;  revealed  on  Earth 
Doubtfully,  as  the  minds  of  parents  are 
To  ungrown  children  ;  most  of  all  revealed 
In  days  and  deeds,  in  holy  life  and  death, 
And  new  life  after  death,  of  Christ  our  Lord. 
But  manifest — so  did  we  read  Him — here. 
In  whatso  mirrors  Love,  the  nursing  Dove 
Fasting  to  feed  her  couplets  ;  the  lone  ewe 


THE    PARABLES.  189 

Battling  against  the  eagle  for  her  lamb  ; 

The  eagle's  self,  fierce  to  find  meat  to  bear 

Back  to  her  nestlings  ;  and  the  peasant-sires 

Toiling  that  little  ones  fare  well  at  home  ; 

And  mothers  with  the  sucklings  at  their  breasts  ; 

And  children  tending  joyously  the  old  ; 

And  he  who  helps  the  poor,  and  he  that  shares 

Last  measure  of  dates  in  the  mid  wilderness 

With  one  that  starves  ; — each  tender  deed  and  true, 

Each  word,  thought,  sacrifice,  which  helps  the  world, 

By  loving-kindness,  use,  and  charity  ; 

Nay,  'even  one  cup  of  water  !'    thus  He  said  : 

'Given  in  My  name  '  bring  glimpe  of  God,  and  lead 

Nearer  and  nearer  to  the  Heart  of  Love. 

Which  shall  be  justified,  when  all  is  known 

And  the  Eternal  Wisdom  whispers,  glad. 

Its  secret  to  the  Soul,  laughing  to  learn 

Death  was  so  friendly,  and  the  toils  of  life 

So  fruitful  for  all  living  things;  and  pain 

Seed  of  long  pleasure  ;  and  our  worst  of  woes 


190  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

So  like  the  foolish  anguish  of  the  Babe 
Whereat  the  Mother,  loving  most,  smiles  most. 

"  Moreover,  not  by  narrow  Reason's  ray- 
Shall  this  be  ever  compassed,  but  by  light 
Larger  and  brighter,  shining  from  the  heart. 
And  in  the  house,  once  at  Capernaum, — 
His  Twelve  disputing  who  was  first  and  chief, — 
He  took  a  little  child,  knit  holy  arms 
Round  the   brown,  flower-soft  boy  ;  and  smiled  and 

said  : 
*  Here  is  the  first  and  chiefest !     If  a  man 
Will  be  the  greatest,  see  he  make  himself 
Lowest  and  least ;  a  servant  unto  all  ; 
Meek  as  my  small  disciple  here,  who  asks 
No  place,  no  praise  ;  but  takes  unquestioning 
Love,  as  the  river-lilies  take  the  sun, 
And  pays  it  back  with  rosy  folded  palms 
Clasped  round  my  neck,  and  simple  head  reclined 
On  his  Friend's  breast.* 


THE    PARABLES.  I9I 

"And,  at  another  time, 
When  the  pleased  Mothers  of  the  Lake  would  bring 
Their  infants  to  His  knees  ;  to  touch  that  hand 
Which  touched  the  hands  of  angels,  and  to  take 
Blessings  from  lips  which  spoke  for  Heaven  ; — those 

Twelve 
Rebuked  them,  knowing  not.     But  Jesus  said  : 
*  Suffer  the  little  ones  to  come  to  Me  ! 
Forbid  them  not  !     Heaven's  Kingdom  is  of  such  ' 
And  then  went  on  :  '  Whoso  shall  not  receive 
The  Kingdom  as  a  little  child,  that  Man 
In  nowise  entereth  in  ! '     Friend  !  should  we  err 
Deeming  He  meant  the  simplest  souls  see  most? 
Is  there  not  wisdom  in  the  witless  Babe? 
New-coming  to  this  life,  so  wonderful, 
Finding,  without  his  pains,  without  his  will, 
The  tender  Mother  waiting  ;  the  sweet  stream 
Of  breast-milk  flowing  ;  and  his  soft  place  made  ; 
With  sunlight  for  his  days  ;  and  stars  and  moon 
To  gem  the  curtains  of  his  sleep  ;  and  flowers 


ig2  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

To  tempt  his  feet  to  walk  ;  and  birds  to  teacli 

Carols  of  country-joy,  when  he  would  sing  ; 

The    child    doth    question    nought,    but    takes   this 

wealth, 
Lavished  upon  him  in  the  dawn  of  life 
With  quiet,  opening  heart,  glad  to  be  glad. 
So  doth  he  grow  and  learn  ;  yet  shall  not  learn 
Ever  a  higher  wisdom  than  to  cling 
Close  to  the  loving  bosom  kept  for  him, 
Content  to  trust,  careless  to  understand." 

The  grey  sage  said,  with  wrinkled  brow  bent  low, 
"  Great  is  thy  grace,  oh.  Lady  Miriam  ! 
Right  surely  hast  thou  won  for  those  true  lips 
Learning's  last  word  !     'Tis  written  in  our  books 
Of  Parabrahm,  to  shame  all  pride  of  mind, 
*  He  is  unknown  to  those  who  think  they  know  ; 
And  known  to  whoso  know  they  know  Him  not.' 
Yet,  as  thy  fair  speech  ran,  much  wondered  I 
That,  teaching  how  this  Heavenly  Love  hath  heed 
Of  all  flesh  living  ;  how  we  sons  of  men 


The  Children's  Friend. 

—Suffer  the  little  children   to  come  unto  me  ;    forbid  them  not  :    for  of  such  is  the 
Kingdom  of  God. 

—And  he  tool:  them   in   his  arms  and  blessed  them,   laying  his  hands    upon   them. 

—Mark  X  :   14.  16 


yaS^  op  thb 


^4^"  OP 


THE    PARABLES.  I93 

Lie  in  its  lap,  all  children,  dear  alike. 

Elder  and  younger  ;  near  and  far  ;  white,  black  ; 

The  Jew,  the  Greek,  Syrian,  Sidonian, 

Arab,  Egyptian  ;  nay,  and  Indian  ; 

Thy  Jesus  did  not  quit,  some  little  while, 

His  slender  world  shut  here,  those  peasant-hearts 

Poorly  perceiving  Him  ;  those  narrow  brows 

Knitted  against  Him  in  false  Nazareth  ; 

And  that  proud,  bitter  muderess  on  the  hill. 

Slayer  of  Prophets,  red  Jerusalem, — 

Which,  as  we  heard,  did  spill  His  blameless  blood. 

Why  wended  not  His  holy  feet  to  them  ? 

To  us  ?  to  any  ?  who  had  listened  well  ; 

And,  glad  with  light  of  such  bright  missioning, 

Crowned  Him  a  King,  indeed,  and  given  Him  Earth 

To  fill  and  foison  with  His  Father's  will?" 

She  answered  :  "  Once,  from  green  Gennesaret 
Passed  He,  with  certain,  to  the  neighboring  coasts 
Of  Tyre  ,  and  would  not  have  that  any  knew, 
But  could  not  veil  His  greatness.     Thou  hast  seen 


194  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Perchance, — or  from  far-travelled  merchant  heard — 

How  stately  sits,  how  strong,  how  beautiful, 

That  city  on  her  Island  of  the  Sea, 

Tyre  of  the  temples  ;  girt  with  mighty  walls, 

Which  glass  themselves  like  rocks,  majestical, 

In  the  green  wave  laving  their  feet ;  filled  full 

With  ships  that  come  and  go, — white  birds  of  the  sea, 

Flown  from  the  farthest  verges  of  the  earth, 

Spreading  or  folding  wing  ;  and  noise  of  oars 

And  ropes,  and  singing  of  the  merchantmen. 

There  stood  He,  on  the  stair  of  Melicerth — 

God  of  the  city — while  there  came  and  went 

Folk,  as  I  think,  from  all  the  East  and  West ; 

Another  world  of  men  and  women  ;  loud 

With  traffick,  and  strange  tumults,  and  new  tongues; 

And  gay  with  many-colored  garbs.     We  saw 

The  thronged  streets  paved  with  coral ;  booths,  and 

shops 
Bursting  with  store  ;  long  strings  of  camels  ;  slaves 
Bearing  red  jars  of  byssus,  sealed  for  Rome ; 


THE    PARABLES.  I95 

Hewn  cedar  logs  for  Greece  ;   honey  and  oil, 

Barley  and  balm  and  calamus  ;  great  bales 

Of  gum  and  cassia;  with  blue-broidered  work. 

And  Tyrian  girls  danced  by,  before  his  eyes, 

Clad  in  the  purple  peplums,  beating  skins 

Of  drum  and  cymbal,  wreathed  with  myrtle  flowers  ; 

Singing  their  wild  way  down  to  Ashtoreth, 

The  hundred-breasted  Goddess  of  the  Moon, 

Worshipped   with   blood.      Mild    stood   the    Master 

there 
Watching  the  busy  bright-hued  heathen  life, 
With  eyes  like  those  sea-waters,  shewing  half, 
Half  hiding  the  deep  Wonders  underneath. 
Whom,    as     He  gazed,    with    who    shall    tell    what 

thoughts  ? 
A  woman  in  the  Greek  dress  did  accost. 
Plucking  His  robe,  and  crying  :  '  David's  Son  ! 
I  know  thee  masterful  and  merciful. 
Have  pity  on  my  child  !     A  devil  rends 
Her  tender  flesh  ;  but  thou,  if  thou  would'st  come, 


196  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD, 

Could'st   heal,  and   bring   thy  servants   peace   and 

weal  !  ' 
Then  He,  grieved  for  the  gilded  wickedness 
Of  that  fair  city,  fain  for  Galilee, 
Answered  :    '  First    must    the   children's    mouths    be 

filled  ! 
It  is  not  meet  to  take  the  children's  bread. 
And  cast  it  to  the  dogs  ! '     At  that,  her  eyes 
Flashed  with  quick  wit  of  anguish  ;  and  she  cried  : 
'Truth,  Lord  !  but  crumbs  fall,  and  the  dogs  may  eat 
The  children's  leavings  !  '     Then  beamed  forth  anew 
That  high  look  on  His  face,  which  comforted  : 

*  For  this  thy  saying  go  in  peace  ! '     He  spake, 

*  Thy  little  Maid  is  healed  ! ' 

"  And  she  was  healed  !  " 


AT    TYRE.  197 


AT    TYRE. 

Break  off  a  little  (he  who  sings  entreats) 
To  mark  the  Master  treading  Tyre's  proud  streets  ; 
For  then,  of  all  the  days  of  all  our  years, 
Since  tale  was  kept  of  human  hopes  and  fears. 
Since  first,  through  mists  of  old,  we  mark  Man  climb 
From  flint  and  bronze  to  arts  and  aims  sublime  ; 
Subduing  Earth,  and  stripping  from  the  Sea, 
By  lordlier  might,  its  power  and  mystery  ; 
And  gaining,  race  by  race,  with  painful  strife. 
Slow  steps  to  Law,  and  sweeter  modes  of  life  : — 
Then,  of  all  days,  Time  past  and  Times  to  be 
Met — touched — and  parted  ;  taking  silently 
Such  eye-glance  as  the  Grecian  boys  might  snatch. 
One  from  another,  in  that  antique  match. 
When  the  enkindled  torch  went  sparkling  round. 
And  each  fleet  runner  o'er  the  flying  ground 


198  THE    LIGHT   OF   THE   WORLD. 

Spent  his  last  breath  and  strained  his  sinking  limb 

To  bring  it,  safe,  and  swiftly,  on  to  him 

Who — new,  and  girt,  and  eager — waited  near 

That  lighted  brand  one  more  quick  stage  to  bear. 

Then  did  this  New  Age  from  that  Old  Age  take 

Life's  flambeau  up  ;  and  with  strong  fingers  shake 

The  sinking  fire,  and  strike  away  the  ash 

Of  Pagan  blackness  ;  making  fresh  rays  flash 

Whiter  and  brighter  than  what  erst  had  beamed, 

When  Attic  grace  and  Latin  lordship  seemed 

To  hold  our  Earth  forever.     Ponder  well 

What  this  white  Tyre  was,  when  the  Writings  tell 

Jesus  stood  silent  in  her  crowded  ways  ; 

Master  and  Victor,  more  than  if  the  blaze 

Of  steel-clad  legionaries  at  His  heels 

Had  burst  her  gates  ;  and  rattling  chariot-wheels 

Had  borne  Him,  splashed  with  scarlet  conquest,  high 

Over  her  purple  Punic  Emper)^ 

See,  in  the  Prophet's  scroll,  how  proud  she  sate, 

Queen  of  the  heathen,  at  her  strong  Sea-Gate  : 


AT    TYRE.  199 

"  Oh  Thou  !  "  he  saith— "  at  entrance  of  the  Sea 
Merchant  for  many  peoples  !  haughtily- 
Wearing  thy  perfect  beauty  ;  with  ships  wrought 
Of  fir  from  Hermon,  and  of  cedars  brought 
From  Lebanon  ;  and  for  thine  oars  uncounted 
Oak-trees  of  Bashan  ;  and  thy  benches  mounted 
With  ivories  of  Chittim  ;  and  thy  sails 
Sendal  of  Egypt,  bellying  to  the  gales 
With  broidered  fringe,  and  blue  and  purple,  pressed 
From  byssus  of  Aeolia  !  Skilfullest 
On  all  the  waves  thy  timoneers  in  Thee, 
Thy  grey-haired  pilots,  sailing  every  sea  ! 
Zidon  and  Arvad  made  Thee  mariners  ; 
Gebal  thy  caulkers  ;  Lud  and  Phut  and  Perse 
And  Gammadim,  thy  men  of  battle  tall, 
Who  hanged  their  helms  and  bucklers  on  the  wall. 
Gems  for  thy  terrible  beauty  !  Tarshish  sent 
Silver  and  tin  to  be  thine  ornament  ; 
Javan  and  Tubal  brought  thee  slaves,  and  brass 
To  mould  thy  market  vessels;  those  who  pass 


200  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Out  of  Togarmah  fetched  thee,  for  thy  fairs, 

Mules  and  their  riders,  stallions  stout  and  mares-, 

Dedan  did  traffick  many  a  horn  with  thee 

Of  milky  elephant,  and  ebony 

From  isles  of  Suph;  Syria  thronged  trader,  too, 

For  corals,  emeralds,  agates;  and  the  blue 

Of  sea-fishes  ;  thy  mouth  was  fed  with  grain 

Of  Judah,  out  of  Minnith's  golden  plain  ; 

With  honey,  oil,  and  balm  ;  with  spice  from  Hind  ;  ^ 

And  green  Damascus  would  not  be  behind 

For  wine  of  Helbon,  and  white  wool  ;  and  Dan 

Sent  thee  bright  iron  ;  and  the  Ionian 

Wine-pots  and  women-slaves.     Kedar  did  graze 

Her  flocks  to  feast  thee  ;  for  thy  power  and  praise 

Sheba  and  Raamah  poured  both  gums  and  gold  ; 

Haran  and  Canneh,  Asshur,  Chilmad  old, 

Blue  cloths  and   broidered  work  ;  and  chests  bound 

round 
With  cords — of  cedar  wood — wherein  was  found 


"  Pannag"  is,  no  doubt,  the  Sanskrit paw«a(;a,  meaning  "aromatic  herbs." 


AT    TYRE.  201 

Glorious  apparel,  wove  with  gilded  thread, 
And  the  worm's  glistening  film  !  " 

So — it  is  said — 
The  ships  did  sing  of  her,  on  all  the  seas. 
Lovely  and  strong,  in  her  twin  majesties 
Of  spear  and  oar,  she  shone  upon  her  Isle, 
Replenished,  very  splendid.     But  the  toil 
Of  tearful  captives  drove  her  glittering  keels 
Swift  o'er  the  waves  ;  at  mills  and  water-wheels 
Lydian  and  Lybian  slaves,  to  keep  her  great, 
Groaned  their  lost  lives  away  with  tears  and  sweat ; 
And — dark  and  cruel — at  the  altar-stair 
Of  dread  Astarte,  priests,  their  red  arms  bare. 
For  glory  of  the  goddess,  pierced  soft  throats 
Of  Tyrian  boys  and  girls  ;  and — girt  with  coats 
Of  sacrifice,  mingling  its  wine  and  blood, — 
Stained  the  white  marble  scarlet,  where  she  stood. 
And  Woman  had  no  place,  nor  purity, 
Nor  grace,  with  that  lewd  Lady  of  the  Sea  : 


202  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

But,  bought  and  sold,  the  maiden  bloomed,  to  live 
A  Temple-thrall,  and  her  dusky  beauty  give 
Loveless,  unloved.     And  the  fierce  statutes  taught 
Hatred  to  foes  ;  and  vile  advantage,  wrought 
By  whatsoever  wrong,  or  force,  or  fraud 
Might  spoil  the  stranger. 

In  such  midst  our  Lord 
Patiently  pacing,  surely  come  to  be 
Gentle  Destroyer  of  this  Heathenry  ; 
Teacher  of  Truth,  which,  spreading  slow,  shall  shake 
The  many-breasted  Goddess  down  ;  and  make 
The  captives  free,  and  tear  the  accursed  knife 
From  priestly  grip  ;  and  change  to  Queen  and  Wife 
The  trafficked  Temple-harlot ;  aye  !  and  bring 
The  Roman  to  his  last  of  governing  ; 
The  Greek — proud  of  his  glorious  gods — to  hear 
Over^Egian  hills  that  voice  of  fear 
Wailing,  "  Great    Pan    is    Dead  !"     And,    from    the 
tongue 


AT    TYRE.  203 

Of  Caesar's  self — hereafter — shrewdly  wrung 
By  scathe  and  loss, — compel  that  yielding  cry, 
Vicisti  Galiloee  ! 

Now,  go  by 
Those  wrongs  of  Tyre, — the  old  ill-deeds  and  days —     / 
Heedless  and  unaware  !  seeing  Him  gaze 
Wistfully  from  their  Temple-steps.     No  thought 
How  the  mild  eyes  and  silent  steps  have  brought 
End  and  Beginning  ! 

Yet  hath  come  the  End  ! 
Hath  dawned  Beginning  ! 

Doth  no  ear  attend  ? — 
The  sea-waves,  softlier  in  the  harbor  swinging, 
Take  part  with  the  sea-breezes,  lightly  singing  : 

Peace  beginning  to  be 

Deep  as  the  sleep  of  the  sea 


204  the  light  of  the  world. 

When  the  stars  their  faces  find 
In  its  blue  tranquillity  : 
Hearts  of  men  upon  earth, 
That  rested  not  from  their  birth, 
To  rest  as  the  wild  waters  rest 
With  colors  of  Heaven  on  their  breast. 

Love  which  is  sunlight  of  peace 
Age  by  age  to  increase 
Till  angers  and  hatred  are  dead, 

And  sorrow  and  death  shall  cease  : 
"  Peace  on  Earth  and  Good-Will  !" 
Souls  that  are  gentle  and  still 
Hear  the  first  music  of  this 
Far-off,  infinite  bliss  ! 


Book  5. 


THE  LOVE  OF  GOD  AND  MAN. 


Next  day,  within  the  House  at  Magdala, 

Sitting  in  fair  discourse,  the  Indian  said  : 

"I  know  that  thou  must  pass  to  bid  me  see 

Thy  Master  done  to  death  by  evil  men, 

Blind  to  the  light,  in  hard  Jerusalem. 

I  think  that  thou  wilt  tell  how, — 'ere  he  died — 

(Who  could  not  die — thou  sayest — and  did  not  die, 

If  thou  hast  seen  Him  living,  being  slain) 

He  took  back,   twice  and    thrice,    those    keys    from 

Death 

Which  lock  the  gates  of  darkness  on  mankind, 

Till,  when  His  own  hour  came.  Death  ministered 
205 


2o6  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Meek  servitor,  leading  that  holy  soul 

Thither  where  it  must  go,  and  willed  to  go, 

So  He  might  finish  what  He  was  to  be  ; 

In  all  things  Man  (thou  sayest)  yet,  in  all  things 

Divinely  touching  Heaven,  fulfilling  life, 

And  conquering  ('twas  thy  word)  the  Unconquerable. 

Now,  gracious  Lady  !  since  these  things  be  strange. 

And  'tis  a  new  day  which  my  dim  eyes  see 

Broader  and  brighter  than  could  shine,  I  deemed, 

Till  Buddh  came  back  ;  humbly  I  pray  of  thee, — 

Who  dwelled'st  near  this  light,  and  hast  this  light 

Large  in  thy  happy  eyes,  and  pure  and  clear 

In  thine  assured  spirit — make  more  plain 

What  was  thy  Master's  teaching ;  with  what  Law 

Set  He  the  old  Laws  by  ?     Whence  take  ye  all — 

Whose  faces  met  His  face, — the  calm,  the  joy 

Of  such  strong  comfort  as  I  mark,  and  praise, 

And  marvel  at,  and  fain  would  understand." 

"  Swift  is  the  heart  to  seize  '' — Mary  replied — 


THE    LOVE    OF    GOD    AND    MAN.  207 

"  Slow  is  the  tongue  to  utter  things  so  high  ! 
Ilad'st  thou  walked  once  with  Him  in  Galilee, 
Seen  His  face  once,  once,  from  His  lip  divine 
Heard  those  commanding,  certain,  kind,  clear  words 
Which  answered  'ere  we  dared  to  ask,  and  spake 
Straight  to  the  thought,  as  if  our  souls  went  stripped, 
Or  wore  for  raiment  crystal  ; — thou  had'st  known. 
As  we  did  know,  who  loved  and  followed  Him, 
He  was  in  all  things  such  as  we  were — Man  ; 
Yet,  being  Man,  in  nowise  like  to  us  ; 
Oh  !  no  more  like  than  yonder  palm-blossom — 
Dropping  its  sudden  plumelet  from  the  crown 
To  spread  and  feather  into  golden  rain — 
Is  like  the  root,  the  stem,  the  branch,  the  leaf 
Whence,  all  at  once,  it  burgeoned.    Thou  had'st  known 
How  speech  must  fail,  seeking  to  circumscribe 
The  purport  of  His  mighty  message  here 
With  unavailing  words  ;  as  if  one  dipped 
A  hand  to  empty  deep  green  Galilee. 
Only,  if  yet  again  that  Voice  could  sound. 


268  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Itself  would  be  its  own  interpreter, 
Lifting  thee  to  those  heights  of  Love  unseen 
Where  dwell  our  spirits,  safe  above  the  clouds  ; 
Would  light  thy  gladdened  eyes  with  what  lights  ours 
Through  life,  through  death,  into  the  bliss  beyond. 

"  Yet,  for  thy  sake,  and  for  His  sweet  Name's  praise, 
I  will  essay  : 

*'  Once,  at  Jerusalem, 
While  eager  multitudes  drank  in  his  words, 
The  Sadducees  had  questioned  Him,  and  asked 
Touching  a  Jewish  wife,  whose  husband  died 
Leaving  no  children  ;  and,  by  Moses'  law. 
The  second  brother  took  her  ;  and,  again 
Dying,  the  third  ;  and  so  the  fourth,  and  fifth, 
Down  to  the  seventh.     Last,  the  Woman  dies 
Childless  of  all — of  all  the  equal  spouse. 
*  Whose  wife,  at  resurrection,  shall  she  be, 
All  seven  having  her,  and  issue  nought  ? ' 
So  posed  they,  mocking  at  the  Life  to  come. 


Bethany. 


-And  >he  had  a  sister  called  Mary,  which  also  sat  at  the  I^ord's  feet,  and  heard  his  word. 

—  I.t'KK   X  :   39! 


^4^   OP  THE        ^ 

'UHIVBRSITT) 


THE   LOVE   OF    GOD    AND    MAN.  209 

But  Jesus  shamed  them  ;  shewed  them  Holy  Writ — 
Forever  in  their  false  mouths — proving  God 
Lord  not  of  dead  but  living  ;  bade  them  know 
Better  His  power,  and  plan,  and  mystery. 
And  multitudinous  mansions  of  Love's  House  ; 
And  this  world  little,  and  high  Heaven  so  large 
Where  neither  marriage  is,  nor  mortal  wish, 
Nor  selfish,  lying  tongues,  speaking  false  speech 
Of  love  ;  nor  eyes  that  lose  their  lustrous  light 
With  tears  and  vigils  ;  nor  the  dread  to  part 
Which,  under  warm  gold  of  Love's  folded  wing, 
Makes  lovers  shudder  ;  nor  true  love  mistook. 
Nor  ill-love  entertained  ;  nor  ever  doubt. 
Where  destined  spirits  meet ;  nor  ever  death 
Of  love  new-born,  heart-holds  abandoning  ; 
But  love  undying,  undivided,  pure. 
Perfect  ;  in  finer  bonds,  and  nigher,  bound  ; 
Dearer  delights  and  deeper  joys  ;  free  souls 
Linked  as  the  Angels  are,  whose  breath  is  Love  ; 
And,  for  their  sex  another  wonder. 


2IO  THE    LIGHT    OK    THE    WORLD. 

*'  One 
Which  was  a  Pharisee,  said, — tempting  Him  ; 
Or,  haply,  learning  Moses  shrunk  too  small 
To  fill  the  new  vast  splendors  opened  so — 
'  Tell  us  the  chief  commandments  of  the  Law  !' 
Then,  as  a  jewel-merchant  spreads  forth  gems, 
And  takes,  from  all  his  treasures  of  the  Deep, 
The  two  great  gleaming  pearls  of  all  the  pearls 
To  set  them,  matchless,  in  the  encircling  gold 
Shining  apart  ; — from  all  the  Law  He  plucked 
These  two  chief  precepts,  sternly  answering  : 

Thou  shalt   love  the  Lord    thy  God  with 

ALL   THY    heart,  AND    WITH    ALL    THY    SOUL,  AND 
WITH    ALL    THY    MIND. 

"  *  This  is  the  First  and  Great  Command,'  He  said 
'  And  like  unto  it  that  which  followeth  it.' 

Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself. 


THE    LOVE    OF    GOD    AND    MAN.  211 

"  *  All  the  Law  hangs,  and  all  the  Prophets  hang 
On    these    Commandments,'    spake    He,    *  on    these 

two  !' 
So  did  our  Lord,  out  of  their  own  mouths,  judge 
Those  hypocrites,  telling  how  this  Life  makes 
Veil  and  dim  vestibule  of  larger  life. 
Eternal,  boundless  ;  and  what  statutes  twain 
Sway  the  commingling  Realms  so  manifest. 
Wherein,  who  loves  his  brother,  seen  and  known. 
Loves  God  Unseen,  Unknown  ;  and  who,  by  faith 
Finds  the  far  Father  in  the  close  sweet  Son, 
Is  one  with  both.     Yet  Faith,  ofttimes  He  taught, 
Was  nowise  bare  believing  ;  since  belief 
Comes  hard  or  easy,  as  winds  go  ;  and  He — 
Not  once  ungentle  to  bewildered  minds 
Seeking  for  truth  and  fearful  lest  they  take 
A  wrong  road  in  the  maze — spake  graciously 
Even  to  one  who,  craving  mercy,  cried  : 
'  Lord  !  I  believe  !  help  thou  mine  unbelief  ! ' 
What  Faith  He  asked  of  whoso  entered  in 


212  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

The  slave  may  have  in  bondage,  if  he  lifts 

Eyes  of  sad  hope  ;  th'  unlettered  hind  may  have,    . 

Who,  at  his  toil,  hungers  for  better  bread 

Than  what  toil  buys  ;  the  little  child  may  have, 

Content  to  love  and  trust ;  all  souls  may  have, 

Which,   when   the   light   shines,  turn    themselves   to 

light 
As  field-flowers  do  ;  and,  like  the  flowers  of  the  field, 
Are  glad  of  the  great  sun  for  the  sun's  sake ; 
And,  being  evil,  are  for  good  ;  being  weak, 
Will  give  what  thews  they  own  for  Righteousness, 
Will  lay  what  gifts  they  may  at  Love's  fair  feet. 
And  follow,  with  quick  step  or  slow, — through  faults, 
Through    failures,   through     discomfitures,   through 

sin, — 
The  march  of  that  majestic  King  whose  flag. 
Distant  and  dim,  they  hail,  and  with  true  hearts — 
Though  will  be  wilful  and  though  flesh  be  weak — 
Burn  to  obey.     These  are  Heaven's  men-at-arms 
In  van  or  rear  ;  informed  or  ignorant 


THE    LOVE    OF    GOD    AND    MAN.  213 

Of  whither  battle  rolls,  and  what  shall  prove 

Its  issue  ;  and,  for  them,  whether  high  spoils 

Of  victory-at  last — the  Leader's  eye 

'Ware  of  their  wounds — or  some  forgotten  grave, 

Where  they  that  gained  Him  glory  sleep  unnamed  : 

Always  to  orders  loyal,  standing  fast 

In  what  post  be  assigned  ;  in  life  and  death 

Right-minded,  but  not  blameless  ;  loving  God 

With  lowly  heart ;  and  earnest,  striving  soul 

Which  trusted,  seeing  darkly  ;  loving  man 

For  brotherhood,  and  God  that  lives  in  man  ; 

Such  have  the  faith,  to  such  is  much  forgiven, 

"  It  may  be  there  shall  come  in  after  days — 
When  this  Good  Spell  is  spread — some  later  scribes. 
Some  far-off  Pharisees,  will  take  His  law, — 
Written  with  Love's  light  fingers  on  the  heart. 
Not  stamped  on  stone  'mid  glares  of  lightning-fork — - 
Will  take,  and  make  it  code  incorporate  ; 
And  from  its  grace  write  grim  phylacteries 


214  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

To  deck  the  head  of  dressed  Authority  ; 
And  from  its  golden  mysteries  forge  keys 
To  jingle  in  the  belt  of  pious  pride  ; 
And  change  its  heavenly  cherishing  tenderness 
To  warrant  for  the  sword,  the  chain,  the  flame, 
Lending  hard  Hate  the  sacred  seals  of  Love, 
And  crying  :  *  Who  believes  not,  perishes  ! ' 
It  may  be  some  that  heard  Him  day  by  day, 
Lacking  the  ears  to  hear,  or  losing  hold 
Of  larger  thought — perplexed  interpreters — 
Shall,  in  the  times  to  be,  do  Him  much  wrong 
With  right  intent  ;  saying  our  sweet  Lord  taught 
Dark  tangled  schemes  of  sad  salvation  ;  God 
Making  Earth  ill  ;  which  went  awry  ;  was  lost 
For  sin  ;  was  forfeit  to  the  wrath  of  Heaven  ; 
Which — for  it  must  exact  a  victim  ; — slew 
The  Son  of  Heaven  Himself,  willing  and  free  ; 
And,  by  His  blood,  self-shed  and  innocent. 
Washes  Earth's  sins  away,  propitiates 
That  hungry  anger  of  the  offended  Law. 


THE    LOVE    OF    GOD    AND    MAN.  215 

So  I  have  known  some  teach — nay,  faithful  ones — 
Reciting  solemn  sentences,  and  words 
Of  sorrowful  foretelling,  when  He  knew 
How  Love,  for  love  of  Love,  must  die,  to  prove 
Love  never  dies  ;  no  more  than  Heaven  extorts 
Sin's  satisfaction  from  glad  pangs  of  Love. 
Nay!  if  'twere  John  himself  shall  teach  such  God 
And  call  him  Christ's,  I  could  remember,  too, 
How, — when    John   bade  Him   call  down  lightning- 
bolts 
Consuming  those  Samaritans  who  drave 
Him  and  the  Twelve  away — He  softly  spake  : 
'  I  came  to  save  men's  lives,  not  to  destroy  ! ' 
But,  if  it  be  ;  and  from  His  darkest  words 
This  passeth,  that  albeit  '  God  is  Love  ' 
As  he  did  say,  this  thing  was  also  said, 
God  from  the  guiltless  drew  the  fine  of  guilt, 
And,  in  constraining  names  of  'Just'  and  '  Good,' 
Wrought  red  injustice,  and  dealt  grievously, 
Bethink  thee  of  our  race, — a  chosen  race 


2l6  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

From  ancient  days, — but  swaddled,  suckled,  nursed 

In  school  of  'sacrifice  ' :  at  Passover 

Sprinkling  our  doors  with  blood  ;  at  bearing-time 

Buying  our  leave  to  enter  once  again 

The  Temple-Courts,  and  show  a  child  to  God, 

With  butchery  of  those  two  soft  turtle-doves, 

Their  pearled   necks   bleeding,   while   the   mother 

kneels. 
Also,  in  Tisri,  on  *  Atonement  Day  ' 
Our  High  Priest,  lifting  up  the  Temple's  veil. 
Walks  gory,  with  his  dripping  knife  in  hand. 
And,  slaughtering  the  bullock  and  the  ram, 
Comes  with  two  goats  ;  and  one  Jehovah  hath 
And  one  Azazel  :  winning  each  by  lot 
Cast  in  that  shambles.     And, — Jehovah's  goat, 
Rightfully  murdered — seven  times  must  he  dip 
His  fingers  in  the  blood,  and  scatter  it 
Over  the  Mercy-Seat.     Azazel's  goat, — 
Bearing  '  the  scarlet  tongue  '  between  its  horns, 
And  laden  with  those  sins  beasts  wot  not  of, — 


THE    LOVE    OF    GOD    AND    MAN.  21 7 

One  leads  into  the  wilderness,  to  die 

Innocent,  for  the  people  ;  die  forlorn. 

Famished,  afire  with  thirst,  knee-deep  in  slime 

And  salt-crusts  of  the  dreadful  Sea  of  Death. 

How  should  we  learn,  horribly  nurtured  so, 

To  cast  no  blood  upon  the  Mercy-Seat 

In  this  fresh  Temple  of  the  living  Love? 

Oh,  Sir  !     The  stream,  so  clear — high  on  the  Mount — 

Takes  color  from  the  hags  and  channel  stones 

Whereby  it  hastens  to  the  expectant  plains  ; 

And  many  winding  ways  this  Heavenly  flood 

Must  find,  belike,  before  old  Law  no  more 

Stains  the  new  crystal  of  its  purity 

With  memory  of  bad,  bitter,  bloody  shrines, 

And  savage  Righteousness,  and  jealous  Jah  ! 

"  It  may  be  this  shall  hap  !     How  should  I  know  ? 
Yet  do  we  know,  who  loved  and  followed  Him, 
Never  such  wild  words  fell  from  those  true  lips. 
Which  would  not  have  the  young  man  call  Him  good, 


2l8  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Replying  *  None  is  good  !     Not  one,  save  God  ! ' 
Love's  glory — not  Love's  gore — redeems  all  Worlds  ! 
The  gateway  of  His  Kingdom  He  did  shut 
On  them  who  named  His  name,  but  let  the  sick 
Lie  helpless  ;  and  the  naked  go  unclad  ; 
The  fatherless  uncared-for  ;  prisoners 
Unvisited  ;  the  woe-begone  of  Earth 
Unsuccored  ; — vainly  dreaming  to  love  God 
Who  did  not  love  their  brothers  ;  those  who  held 
Talents,  and  wrapped  them  in  a  napkin  ;  churls 
Who — pardoned  of  great  debts — took  by  the  throat 
A  fellow-servant  for  some  little  due, 
And  narrowly  exacted  all ;  unkind. 
Forgetting  the  Forgiven     But  for  Faith 
Which,  if  it  could,  would  cling  ;  and,  if  it  could, 
Would  comprehend  ;  and,  comprehending  not, 
Stumbled,  yet  loved  and  strove, — to  that  He  flung 
The  golden  doors  wide  open,  crying,  '  Come, 
Thrice-blessed  of  my  Father  !     What  ye  did, 
In  that  sweet  secret  doing  of  true  heart, 


THE    LOVE    OF    GOD    AND    MAN.  219 

Unto  the  least  of  these  my  brethren,  ye 
Have  done  it  unto  Me  !  ' 

"  '  Of  true  heart ' — mark  ! 
For  what  were  wrought  in  purpose  of  reward, 
Though    the  high    goal   be    Heaven,    wins    us    no 

Heaven, 
Wins  wages  only  of  this  World  and  men  ; 
The  portion  of  the  hyprocrites.     To  love 
Our  lovers,  and  to  give  to  them  that  give  ; 
And  to  bestow,  and  to  abstain,  for  praise, 
The  sinners  do  it,  and  the  publicans  : — 
So  would  He  teach.     But,  in  our  daily  alms 
And  in  our  prayers  ;  to  keep  them  maidenly, 
Veiled  ;  making  private  what  poor  grace  they  own, 
Holding  them  secret  twixt  ourselves  and  Heaven  ; 
Not  letting  this  hand  know  what  that  hand  doth  ; 
And  nowise  ever  to  ask  pay  for  Love, 
Since  Love  is  paid  in  loving.     Yet,  He  taught, 
Love  could  not  lose  by  utmost  sacrifice, 


220  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Nay,  but  that  gain  would  come, — must  come  ! — much 

gain  ! 
And  pleasure  past  all  seeing  of  the  eye, 
Hearing  of  ear,  imagination 
Quickened  to  topmost  fanc5^     This,  for  sphere 
Of  spirit,  where  the  things  prepared  for  us — 
Poorly  foreshadowed  in  Earth's  happiest  Now — 
Would  daze  the  heart  to  know.     Still,  deem  thou  not 
Our  holy  Master  put  the  body  by 
As  though  'twere  clog  and  curse  !   Not  mean,  nor  base, 
But  of  Heaven's  best  upbuilding  is  this  House 
Fashioned  for  man  ;  the  city  of  nine  gates, 
Wonderful,  subtle,  sacred  ; — to  be  kept 
Fair  and  well  garnished  ;  graced  with  ornament 
Outside  and  in,  and  wardened  worthily 
That,  in  its  ordered  precincts,  Angel's  wings 
May  float  and  fold  ;  and  body  help  the  soul 
As  soul  helps  body.     Never  once  with  us 
Scorned    He    the    meats   and    drinks,    sights   and 

delights 


THE    LOVE    OF    GOD    AND    MAN.  221 

Which  flesh  doth  ask  ;  '  Your  Heavenly  Father  knows 

Ye  need  these  things  '  He  said  ;  and  ofttimes  sate 

At  wedding-festival  and  banquet-board. 

But  while  the  kind  Earth  hath  a  place  for  all, 

Joys  come  unsought — He  said — to  whoso  lives 

Heedless  of  joy.     '  Love  thyself  last !  Drink  deep 

The  nectared  anodyne  of  selflessness  ! 

Feast  full  upon  the  diet  Angels  eat — 

Pity  and  Help  and  vast  Compassion  !  Seek 

The  pathway  to  the  Kingdom  ; — finding  that, 

'  Other  things  shall  be  added  ! '  Griefs  shall  come. 

Pain,  hardships,  death,  it  may  be,  on  the  path  ; — 

Yet  turn  not  back  !  hand  once  upon  the  plough. 

Drive  the  brave  furrow  forward,  eyes  intent 

On  the  share's  point !  trust  Heaven  for  recompense 

Forgetting  recompense  ;  trust  God  for  due 

Of  goodly  things,  and  for  soul's  due  of  peace 

Foregoing  both  !     *  Some  of  you  they  shall  put ' — 

Spake  He  '  to  death  ;  and  not  one  single  hair 

Shall  perish  of  your  heads  ! '" 


222  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

The  Buddhist  said  : 
"  I  hear  thee  tell  me  plain  how  Jesus  taught 
Life  beyond  this  life,  timeless,  infinite  ; 
As  little  parted  from  the  world  we  see 
As  day-time  is  from  dream-time,  when  we  drowse, 
And  think  'tis  night,  with  sunrise  on  our  lids. 
Taught  that  our  sorrows  are  but  children's  frets 
Because  there  bends,  o'er  seen  things  and  unseen, — 
Swaying  that  Kingdom  which  hath  Love  for  law, — 
A  Father's  hand,  bountiful,  pitiful, — 
Known    by    the    Son's    hand,    which    we    reach    and 

touch, — 
His  true  Name  being  nameless  ;  conquering 
Slowly — for  reasons — all  things  to  himself. 
Also  that  whoso  will  may  enter  in — 
Now  and  forever — to  full  freedmanship 
Of  Love's  fair  Kingdom,  having  Faith,  which  is 
Not  wisdom,  understanding,  creed,  belief. 
Not  sinlessness — by  Yogis  vainly  sought 
In  deedlessness — but  earnest  will  to  stand 


THE    LOVE    OF    GOD    AND    MAN.  : 

On  Love's  side ;  eager  heart  to  see  the  Good 
And  serve  the  Good,  and  hail  the  Light,  and  help 
The  spreading  of  the  Light  ;  aiming  to  grow 
'  Perfect  as  He  is  perfect.'     So  the  dew 
Globes  on  a  grass-blade  ;  shaped  as  is  the  Star, 
Shooting  star's  rays,  obeying  star-like  laws  ! 
Now  do  these  lucent  words  kindle  a  lamp 
Brighter  than  what  we  took  from  Buddha's  lore  ! 
He  bade  us  spurn  Self,  set  the  self  aside — 
Ahankara — seek  always  to  sink  back 
Safe  to  the  Infinite  ;  and,  for  such  end, 
Break  from  the  sense,  with  all  its  sorceries  ; 
Forego  delights,  disdain  what  most  men  prize, 
Life's  light  allurements,  tender  things  of  Time, 
Soft  lips  of  love,  sweet  lisp  of  little  ones 
Making  heart's  music  in  the  house  ;  praise,  fame. 
Wealth,  domination.     But  thou  shewest  us 
The  subtle  spirit,  making  good  its  way 
From  world  of  sense  and  self  to  selfless  world, 
Not  by  hard  stress  of  lone  philosophies, 


224  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Nor  scorn  of  joys,  nor  sad  disparagement 
Of  life  and  living  things  as  shadows  vain  ; 
But — nearer  road  and  new  ! — by  heart  to  see 
Heaven  closest  in  this  Earth  we  walk  upon, 
God  plainest  in  the  brother  whom  we  pass, 
Best  solitudes  'mid  busy  multitudes, 
Passions  o'ercome,  when  master-passion  springs 
To  serve  and  love  and  succor.     Ah  !  the  dream  ! 
Full  fair,  could  it  but  last  in  waking  hours  ! 
Could  men  but  hear  the  Angel's  song  anew 
And  learn  to  sing  it,  making  '  Peace  on  Earth  ! ' " 

"  Sir  !  but  it  lasts  !  "  she  said — "  with  whoso  sees 
As  we  have  seen  and  heard.     No  dream  at  all, 
But  simple,  glad,  and  easy  Verity  ! 
I  pray  thee  note  how  He  would  call  Himself 
The  'Son  of  Man.'     Is't  not  the  way  with  kings 
To  bear  for  style  and  title — first  and  most — 
Their  Kingdom's  name,  prouder  than  crown  or  ring, 
Or  high  imperial  purple  ?     This  our  King, 


Gethsemane. 

—Could   ye  not   walch   with   me,  one  hour  ?— Mati  H.   XXVI  :    4U. 


^v 


"   OF  THE 


^ 


irSIVBESIT 


THE    LOVE    OF    GOD    AND    MAN,  225 

Who,  had  He  willed,  might  sit  in  majesty 

Out  of  all  reach,  in  court  invisible 

Of  undiscovered  Paradise  ;  unmoved, 

'  Mid  Angels  and  Archangels  ministering, 

Throned  Son  of  God  ;  with  archipelagoes 

Of  orbs  for  silver  islands  of  His  Realm  ; — 

Dwelled,  seest  thou  this,  with  us  in  Galilee  ; 

And,  lowly,  took  for  Empire  '  Men,'  a  Man  ? 

Consider  what  it  is  that  He  was  Man  ! 

If  one  proclaimed — the  wisest  and  the  best 

That  ever  lived  in  all  our  lands,  and  years, — 

'  The  way  to  God  is  by  the  road  of  men  ; 

Find  they  far  Heaven  in  near  humanity  ; 

Love  thy  seen  brother  as  thyself  !     Thereby 

Thou  lovest  Him  Unseen,  who  is  the  All  !  ' 

What  answer  should  we  make  ?  should  we  not  say 

Some  few  our  eyes  have  seen,  lovers  and  friends. 

Tender  and  true  ;  once,  twice,  and  thrice  we  knew 

Hearts  gentle,  just,  and  pure  ;  and  there  have  been — 

If  annals  lie  not — excellent  good  souls 


226  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Giving  themselves  for  kindred,  country,  right  ; 
Wise  teachers,  vi^orthy  soldiers,  foremost  minds 
Whose  names  are  sweet  upon  the  lips  of  Time 
For  service  dearly  wrought  and  selfless  deeds. 
Yet,  never  was  there  one  might  say,  at  height 
Of  topmost  virtue,  '  See  in  Me  that  God 
Elsewise  unseen  !     For  My  sake  find  in  Man 
Heaven's  glory  hiding  ;  and  for  My  sake  love 
The  least  of  these  my  brethren,  since  the  least 
Hath  God  in  him—  or  shall  have  !'     Oh,  our  best 
Left  us  still  sighing,  *  all  this  petty  world 
Is  full  of  spoiled  and  spoilers  ;  strangers,  foes, 
Hating  and  hated  ;  rending  each  from  each 
By  force  or  fraud  the  means  to  live  ;  low  souls 
Base,  void,  unholy  !     What  should  make  us  love 
This   poor   forked    fellow-worm,    plagued    with    vile 

needs, 
By  savage  passions  scourged,  whose  brittle  life 
Commenced  in  helplessness,  runs  its  vain  round 
Of  meats,  drinks,  sleeping,  striving  ;  then  sinks  back, 


THE    LOVE    OF    GOD    AND    MAN.  227 

Helpless  again,  to  that  clay  whence  he  came  ? 
Where  shall  we  find  Heaven's  image  in  these  brows 
Ape-like  and  low?  these  faces  foul  with  lusts? 
Those  hands  with  guiltless  blood  dyed  red,  those  eyes 
Aflame  with  greed  and  anger  ; — nay,  and  worse, 
Those  false,  deceiving  hearts  that  cog  and  cheat, 
The  smooth,  reputed  hypocrites  who  smile 
And,  with  the  serpent's  glitter,  drag  his  sting? 
What  peak,  at  loftiest,  had  our  breed  attained 
Where  we  might  stand  and  see  the  stars  come  close  ? 
Where  glowed  one  human  glory  bright  enough 
To  feed  the  fond  desire,  the  hopeless  hope 
That  somewhere,  at  beginning,  Man  did  touch 
Divinity  ;  and,  somewhere,  at  his  end. 
Might  pass — a  purged  thing — to  the  Infinite  ? 

"  This  hath  my  Lord  and  Master  satisfied  ! 
This,  from  the  mouth  of  doubters  and  Unfaith 
Forever  hath  He  taken  !     Ah  !  the  worst, 
Th'  unworthiest  creature  of  us,  crawling  Earth, 


228  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE   WORLD. 

If  he  but  knew  what  bliss  hath  happened  here, 
What  sudden  splendor  of  inheritance, 
What  unexpected  purple,  undeserved, 
Hath  lighted  making  Him  the  kith  of  Kings, 
Would  lift  his  head  from  the  life-dust  he  licks, 
And,  in  the  sunshine  of  new,  happy  hope 
Spread  jewelled  wings  of  joy — as  when  we  see 
The  dull  grey  worm,  hid  in  uncomely  shell. 
Burst  it,  and  soar  a  lightsome  butterfly 
Burning  and  blossoming,  all  gold  and  blue. 
I — even  I — the  wilful  one,  and  wild, 
Because  He  did  forgive,  because  my  feet 
Are  clean  with  treading  in  His  steps,  because 
I  heard  His  gracious  words  ;  and  saw    Him  live, 
And  saw  Him  die,  and  saw  Him  after  Death 
Alive,  triumphant,  Lord  of  Life  and  Death  ; 
Come  to  His  Kingdom,  and  not  gone  from  us  : 
I — Miriam  of  Magdala — rejoice 
With  what  exceeding  joy  thine  eyes  have  marked, 
Standing  persuaded  that  no  height,  no  depth, 


THE    LOVE    OF    GOD    AND    MAN. 


229 


Nor  present  things,  nor  things  to  be,  nor  powers,  \ 
Nor  pangs,  shall  separate  us  from  His  grace. 
And,  for  myself,  and  all  the  Earth,  and  thee, 
Have  no  grief  left,  and  cannot  suffer  grief, 
Being  Woman,  and  my  Lord  and  God  a  Man. 
For,  listen  yet  again  !     This  Godlike  One, 
This  spotless,  stainless,  sinless,  blameless  Christ, 
Whom  none  did  once  convince  of  one  small  swerve 
From  perfectness  ;  nor  ever  shall  ! — so  strong 
The  elements  obey  Him  ;  so  divine 
The  devils  worshipped  ;  so  with  virtue  charged 
The  touch  of  Him  was  health  ;  so  masterful 
The  dead  came  back  upon  His  call  ;  so  mild 
The  little  children  clustered  at  His  knee, 
And  nestled  trustful  locks  on  that  kind  breast 
Which  leans  to-day  on  God's — Consider,  Sir  !      ^ 
A  human  heart  beat  there  !  a  human  brain 
Pondered,  and  pitied,  and  was  sorrowful 
Behind  that  Sovereign  brow.     The  blood  of  us, — 
Of  women  and  of  men — coursed,  crimson,  warm, 


230  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

In  those  rich  veins  !  Nay,  and  He  ate  our  meats, 
And  drank  our  drinks,  and  wore  the  dress  we  wore  ; 
And  His  hair  fluttered  in  the  breeze  which  stirred 
Peter's  and  John's  and  mine.     So,  now,  henceforth 
This  wonder  lasts,  that  what  in  all  the  worlds 
Was  highest,  holiest,  purest,  noblest,  best, 
More  taintless  than  the  Morning-Star,  more  kin 
To  Heaven  than  light  of  Heaven,  or  proudest  plumes 
Of  Angel  and  Archangel — that  is  Man  ! 
That  one  supreme,  consummate,  faultless  life, 
It  was  a  human  life,  begun  with  us, 
^Continued  'midst  us,  ended  as  we  end 
In  woe  and  weakness,  thence  emerged  to  be 
A  Glory  sitting  equal  in  the  sky 
With  God's  own  glory,  everlastingly 
That  by  which  we  are  judged,  and  that  whereby 
The  race  of  Man  claims  place  and  patrimony  ; 
Oh,  more  than  all  !  that  for  whose  holy  sake. 
By  whose   most   sovereign   grace,    for   whose   sweet 
deed 


THE    LOVE    OF    GOD    AND    MAN.  23 1 

The  sins  which  reddened  Earth  are  washed  away- 
Whiter  than  wool,  the  debts  which  loaded  Earth 
Are  paid  by  Love's  kiss  on  the  Lips  of  Law, 
Tenderly  silenced.     Now,  the  whole  world  hears 
Or  shall  hear — surely  shall  hear — at  the  last, 
Though  men  delay,  and  doubt,  and  faint,  and  fail. 
That  promise  faithful  : — '  Fear  not,  little  flock  ! 
It  is  your  Father's  will  and  joy  to  give 
To  you  the  Kingdom  ! ' 

"Wherefore,  if  there  live 
Brothers  too  low  to  love,  too  base  to  serve, 
Too  evil  to  forgive  ;  if  aught  in  Man 
So  abject  seem  and  so  to  brute  allied 
Nice  natures  scorn  the  kinship  ; — think  that  Christ 
Knew  also  these,  and  measured  these  and  made 
His  daily  sojourn  'midst  them  ;  and  was  swift 
To  succor  them  and  cheer  ;  and  bore  with  them, 
Never  once  holding  any  lowly  soul 
Less  dear  to  Heaven  than  high  and  saintly  souls  ; 


232  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Never  conceding  once  that  one  stray  sheep — 
Lean,  foul,  and  fleeceless  in  the  thorns  of  Sin — 
Should  die,  unfolded,  for  the  safe  flock's  sake. 
Thus,  then,  weakly  I  aim  to  answer  thee  : 
Jesus  our  Lord  hath  lived  and  died  and  lived  : 
And,  now,  in  Suns  and  Stars,  and  amplest  Heaven, 
When  Angels  name  us  they  must  name  Him,  too. 
Since  He  was  Man — is  Man.     And,  for  His  sake. 
No  more  'tis  hard  to  love  what  He  hath  loved, 
Nor  strange  to  tread,  in  footmarks  of  His  feet, 
This  path  which  leads,  by  love  of  Man,  to  where — 
Through  earthly  service  rendered,  duties  wrought 
In  meekness,  purity,  and  charity — 
Always  our  Helper,  He  awaits.     Awaits 
To  tell  what  best  He  knew — the  secret  deep. 
How  the  Divine  hides  in  the  Undivine. 
How  near  to  good  is  evil.     Waits  to  say  : 
*  Enter  ye  in,  who  nursed  Me,  lying  sick, 
And  fed  Me,  being  hungered  ;  gave  me  robes 
When  I  was  naked,  wiped  my  tears  away 


THE    LOVE    OF    GOD    AND    MAN.  233 

In  heavy-hearted  days,  and  pitied  Me, 

And  helped  Me,  cast  in  prison  with  the  thieves  !  ' 

And,  when  we  answer  :  '  Oh,  dear  Lord  !  but,  how 

Saw  we  Thee  sick,  or  hungered,  or  unclad, 

Or  sad,  or  cast  in  prison  ?     Christ  shall  say  : 

*  Inasmuch  as  ye  did  it  to  the  least 

Of  these  my  brothers,  it  was  done  to  Me  ! 

Aye  !  'twas  to  Me — and   'twas  to  God,  through  Me — 

Ye  gave  that  cup  of  water  !  I  lay  sick 

With  him  ye  succored  ;  I  was  languishing 

In  prison  with  the  broken  hearts  ye  cheered  ; 

That  was  my  nakedness  ye  covered  up 

Clothing  my  poor  ;  I  was  the  babe  ye  fed  ; 

I  was  that  widow  whom  ye  visited  ; 

Share  my  joy  now,  who  helped  my  Father  then  ! 

Enter  ye  in  ! ' 

"  Moreover,  Sir  !  I  deem 
We  are  so  made  we  but  discern  what's  high, 
What's  great,  what's  noble,  what's  best  worthy  love. 


234  THE    LIGHT    OF   THE    WORLD. 

When  it  comes  visible,  incarnate,  nigh  : 
Beauty  were  but  a  name,  except  it  burned 
Authentic  in  red  glory  of  the  Rose, 
Or  in  loved  form  and  face  desirable  : 
And  Virtue  needs  must  put  white  raiment  on, 
And  walk  in  sight,  'ere  men  bend  knee  to  her. 
Souls,  'ere  they  soar,  ask  help, — to  spread  a  wing — 
From  firm  ground  here  ;  th'  ideal  real,  the  dream 
True  in  the  daylight.     But  with  Christ  to  love, — 
With  Him  to  show  us  what  lay  lost  in  us — 
Man  by  His  birth,  God  by  His  deathlessness — 
For  His  sake  all  the  race  of  men  grows  great ; 
Old  laws  are  spent !     What  need  command  us  more, 
With  crash  of  Sinai's  thunder,  not  to  rob, 
To  murder,  covet,  bear  false  witness  ?    Those 
Were  chains  for  Hatred  ; — Love  is  done  with  them  ! 
Love,  standing  with  the  children,  at  His  knee, 
Spells  the  new  lesson  that  the  neighbor  wronged, 
The  poor  left  comfortless,  the  foeman  slain. 
Were  kinsmen  used  unkindly,  lovers  lost ; 


THE    LOVE    OF    GOD    AND    MAN.  235 

Being  one  household,  with  one  Father,  God, 

One  eldest  brother,  Christ.     '  How  often.  Lord  ! 

Shall  one  offend  me,  and  shall  I  forgive?' 

Asked  Peter:  'until  seven  times?'     And  He  said, 

'  Seventy  times  seven  pardon  ! '     Not  the  sin  ! 

He  made  no  peace  with  that !     The  pure  in  heart 

Alone  see  God  ;  and  very  terrible 

Blazed  his  bright  wrath  'gainst  all  the  wrong-doers, 

Oppressors  of  His  poor,  self-lovers,  scribes 

Who  darkens  knowledge,  sinners  loving  sin, 

Impenitent.     But,  when  he  turns,  turn  thou  ! 

And,  if  he  shall  not  turn,  hate  him  no  more 

As  though  Christ  had  not  come,  a  second  time 

To  break  those  stones  of  Moses,  and  to  write 

On  every  shard  of  his  enlarged  Law 

The  new,  great,  golden  Statute  :     What  ye  would 

That  men  should  do  to  you,  do  ye  to  them  !  " 

"  So  taught  Lord  Buddh,"  the  Indian  said — "  but  I 
Hail  larger  teaching  here.     It  shall  not  be. 
Henceforward,  that  the  wise  man  reins  his  wrath 


236  THE   LIGHT   OF    THE   WORLD. 

For  quietness  of  mind,  self-mastery, 

Or  high  disdain  of  who  offends, — being  held 

Only  some  shadow  in  the  phantom-nautch 

Of  Maya,  some  illusionary  show 

Of  sense-life  ; — but,  because  Love's  tolerance 

Fulfils  the  law,  and  self  would  wrong  itself 

Hurting  the  wronger,  who  is  kin  to  self. 

So  die  all  mortal  strifes,  wars  without  truce, 

Quarrels  unreconciled  ;  the  cruel  feuds 

Of  house  with  house,  and  tribe  with  tribe,  and  race 

With  neighboring  race,  nursed  darkly  in  dull  veins 

And  handed  down,  a  bloody  heritage. 

From  age  to  age.     Such  ills  shall  cease,  I  deem, 

Where  this  ray  passeth  of  the  nobler  light. 

Slowly  shall  dawn,  I  think,  a  broader  time 

When,  punished  worst  by  lofty  clemency, 

The  manslayer  shall  learn  he  cannot  slay 

The  slain  one's  right  to  pardon,  nor  Man's  right 

To  pity  and  to  comfort,  while  we  kill. 

The  oppressor  shall  not  so  oppress  himself 


THE    LOVE    OF    GOD    AND    MAN.  237 

To  shut  his  soul  from  share  of  better  things 
When  Justice  reigns.     Revenge  shall  sheath  his  knife 
Leaving  his  private  grief  to  public  means 
Which,  ceasing  not  to  exact,  shall  know  no  hate. 
Surely,  herewith,  a  new  World  might  begin 
From  this  thy  faultless  Lord,  shewing  all  folk 
His  brothers  ;  dear,  for  such  high  brotherhood, 
And  for  what  lurks  like  Him,  hid  in  their  clay. 
Love,  than  Hate  mightier,  taking  happy  fire 
From  thy  fair  Christ,  might  kindle — as  times  roll — 
In  crores  on  crores  of  hearts, — the  beam  divine 
Of  that  vast  patience  which  is  type  of  Heaven's 
Sending  its  sunshine  upon  good  and  ill. 
Yet,  one  point  lacks  !  There  shall  not  fall,  a;t  first, 
Great  earthly  comfort  here  !  Sheep  among  wolves, 
Naked  'mid  sharpened  blades.  His  messengers 
Must  pass  ;  and  suffer  bitterness  ;  and  be 
Despised,  reviled  ;  brought  to  the  cross  and  stake  ; 
Losing  this  sweet  seen  Earth  for  Heav'n  unseen. 
It  needed  that  He  shewed  them, — shewed  to  us — 


238  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

More  than  a  man  may  ;  proved  it  visible 

This  hidden  World,  where  wages  shall  be  paid  ; 

No  sleep,  no  dream,  no  mystic  cheat  to  tempt 

Souls  deathwards,  down  the  narrow  Road  of  Right ; 

But  verity — close,  palpable,  and  clear — 

If  we  had  eyes  to  see, — plain  certitude 

As  solid  as  the  summer's  purple  grapes, 

As  rich  roast  meats,  as  miser's  gold  ;  as  lips 

Dewed  with  the  honey  of  youth,  rose-ripe,  and  new. 

For  whose  sake  lovers  let  the  world  go  by  ; 

As  likely  as  to-morrow, — not  yet  come 

But  surely  coming  ; — nay  more  sure  than  that, 

Since,  if  each  be  at  all,  it  is  to-day 

And  all  days, — this  abiding,  fuller  Life 

Beyond,  and  round,  and  in,  and  under  things, 

Shut  from  us  now  by  curtain  of  the  flesh 

Whose   edge   Death   lifts.     Said'st   thou    He   took 

Death's  place 
And   pushed   the  black   folds   back ;    and    made   us 

know  ? " 


THE    LOVE    OF    GOD    AND    MAN.  239 

She  answered  not  ;  but,  with  obeisance,  rose  ; 
Passed  swiftly  through  that  latticed  door  which  led 
From  the  paved  Court  into  the  Women's  rooms  ; 
And  presently  returned,  holding  the  hand 
Of  a  pale  Maid,  who  wore  the  Hebrew  dress 
Tsaiph  and  cethoneth — gown  and  gathered  shirt — 
Of  fine  Egyptian  linen,  all  in  white 
Girt  with  an  abnet   wove  in  gold  and  white, 
Its  tassels  threaded  pearls  ;  and,  on  her  head 
The  tsamphy  tied  with  pearls.     But  most  you  marked 
The  exceeding  paleness  of  that  grave  fair  face 
Which  was  as  if  white  marble  breathed,  and  had 
Black  tresses  banded  on  it,  and  large  orbs 
Of  jetty  gems  inlaid  for  eyes  ;  and  lips 
Carved  of  faint-colored  coral  ;  ever  pressed 
As  though  they  held  some  secret  word  to  say 
And  must  not  part,  lest  breath  of  it  break  forth  : 
Yet,  with  her  pallor,  something  strange  of  joy 
In  her  bright  glance  revealed,  and  gentle  mouth 
Where — flitting  under  subtle-shadowed  curves — 


240  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

A  light  smile  always  played,  so  tender-sad 

It  seemed  to  mock  at  sadness.     Calm  and  soft 

Issued  the  Aramaic  of  her  speech 

In  salutation,  while  she  bent,  and  said  : 

"  Peace  be  with  thee  !  "     And  the  grey  Magus  stood 

Folding  his  palms  across  his  breast  ;  and  gazed 

With  fear  and  wonder  on  her  countenance 

So  secret-full,  albeit  so  fresh  and  young ; 

Murmuring  :  "  On  thee  be  peace  !  " 

**  It  dwells  with  her 
Now,  and  forevermore  " — quoth  Miriam — 
"  Passing  all  understanding  !     She  hath  seen 
What  none  else  sees  ;  and  journeyed  to  a  Land 
Whence  none  returns,  and  heard  with  living  ears 
What  the  Dead  say  ;  for  this  is  Shelomith 
Whom  Jesus  raised  from  death  in  Galilee, 
Daughter  of  Jair.     She  lodgeth  with  us  here. 
His  handmaid,  and  the  friend  of  all  His  friends. 
Living  His  Virgin,  till  He  call  her  hence." 


-^  ri 


V- 


To  Golgotha. 

Daughters  of  Jerusalem  weep  not  for  me,  but  weep  for  yourselves,  aud  for  your  children. 

—Luke  XXI II  .   28. 


THE    LOVE    OF    GOD    AND    MAN.  24I 

Thereat  fell  silence,  while  the  Indian  sage 
Gazed  more  intent  ;  and  Shelomith's  great  eyes 
Roamed,  searching  in  the  sky  for  sights  unseen. 

Mary  went  on  :  "  Once,  in  Capernaum, 
He  sat  at  meat  with  Matthew  ;  and  there  came 
The  Rabbi  Jair — Rosh-Hakkeneseth — Chief 
Of  synagogue  ;  who  fell  before  His  feet, 
Beseeching  from  His  love  and  mightiness 
Help  for  a  daughter,  twelve  years  old.     She  lay 
Dying — by  this  time,  peradventurg,  dead  ; — 
His  only  daughter,  dearer  than  heart's  blood. 
And  Jesus  rose  and  went ;  we  following. 
But,  while  our  throng  threaded  the  long  bazaars, — 
Woe-begone  Jair  leading  the  way,  the  folk 
In  booths  and  shops  upstarting,  from  their  trades 
And  trafficking,  to  see  their  Rabbi's  hand 
Clasped  in  the  Master's,  and  that  hurrying  crowd 
Gather  from  Khan  and  well  and  synagogue  : — 
Look  !  there  runs  up,  wild  with  his  grief  and  speed, 


242  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

One  from  the  Ruler's  house.     Tears  course  adown  ; 
He  rends  his  skirt !     He  cries  :  '  The  maid  is  dead  ! 
Trouble  no  more  the  Master  ! '     Rabbi  Jair 
Beats  on  his  breast,  and  moans.     But  Jesus  said  : 

*  Fear  not !  only  believe  !     She  shall  be  whole  ! ' 
And  Jair,  drear,  gazing  on  the  gracious  lips 
Which  spake  such  comfort  inconceivable. 
Came  to  his  gate.     By  this  the  wailing-women 
Screamed  round  the  door,  with  flutes  and  drums,  and 

flung 
Dust  on  their  heads,  lamenting  *  Wel-wel-eh  ! 
Ah,  his  resource  !  his  glory  !     Oh,  Gazelle  ! 
That  shall  not  drink  our  water-brooks  again, 
Nor  leave  the  lilies  fairer  for  thy  feet ! 
Oh,  tender,  broken,  palm-tree  !      Wel-tvel-eh!' 
Thou  knowest.  Sir,  how  sorrowful  is  death. 
But  He,  staying  their  clamor,  gently  said  : 

*  Weep  not !     She  is  not  dead  ;  she  doth  but  sleep  ; 
I  will  awake  her ! '     This  they  laugh  to  scorn 
Well  wotting  she  is  dead.     Then  entered  He 


THE    LOVE    OF    GOD    AND    MAN.  243 

With  Peter,  John,  and  James  ;  and,  beside  these, 

The  Rabbi  with  his  wife.     Our  Shelomith 

Lay  on  her  pallet,  white  and  still  as  snow. 

The  grave-cloth  bound  about  her  hair  ;  the  myrrh 

Scattered  upon  her  breasts  ;  her  little  palms 

Pressed    meek    together ;     pale    lips    done    with 

breath  ; 
Worn  eyelids,  weary  with  the  fever,  dropped 
Shutting  the  eyes  from  life  ;  black  lashes  laid 
Close  to  cheek's  alabaster — surely  dead  ! 
Not  hearing  any  more  the  Father's  cry  : 

*  My  Shelomith  !  would  I  had  died  for  thee  ! ' 
Not  feeling  any  more  the  Mother's  tears 
Passionate  on  her  brow.     But  Jesus  touched 

The    chill    and    stiffening    hands ;     looked    stead- 
fastly 
In  the  still  face  ;  then,  giving  soft  command 
Stronger  than  Death's,  '  Damsel,  arise  ! '  He  cries, 

*  Talitha,  cumif     And  her  spirit  came. 
And  she  arose  and  walked  ;  and  ate  of  meat : 


244  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

While  those  around  laid  hands  upon  their  mouths, 
Astonished  with  a  great  astonishment." 

Anew  fell  silence,  while  the  Magus  drew 
Nearer  by  paces  three,  to  see  this  Maid 
Living,  that  had  been  dead,  who  knew  the  things 
Which  no  flesh  knows,  and  bore  them  wistfully 
In  calm  bright  eyes,  and  placid  smiling  lips. 

Then  spake  he  :  "  Is  it  lawful  if  I  ask 
What  memory  holdest  thou  of  that  black  time  ? " 

Shelomith,  after  pause,  replied  :  "  He  bade 
We  should  not  greatly  speak  of  what  was  wrought  ; 
And,  if  I  speak,  something  is  wont  to  fall 
Like  a  thick  curtain,  shutting  off  my  mind, 
With  all  it  knows,  from  you  that  know  it  not. 
I  pray  you  give  me  grace  if  I  speak  nought  !  " 

And  Mary  said — "  Beseech  you,  pardon  her  ! 


THE    LOVE    OF    GOD    AND    MAN.  245 

She  must  not  speak  !     It  is  not  well  for  Life 
To  learn  too  soon  the  lovely  secrets  kept 
For  them  that  die.     Look  on  her  face,  and  see 
What  close  content,  and  private  peacefulness 
Gleam  through  it  from  the  lighted  heart  within  ! 
Now  hast  thou  witnessed  what  thou  didst  desire, 
That  other  world  shewn  visible  and  near  ; 
Not  sleep,  not  dream,  not  cheat,  but  Verity  !  " 

The  Indian  said  :  "  I  worship  her,  and  praise 
The  greatness  of  thy  potent  Lord  :  and  thank 
Thy  pains.     Yet  was  it  very  Death,  indeed, 
Not  trance,  nor  swoon  ?     In  closest  moments  here 
Hath    she   told    nought   of   those    new   things   she 
saw  ?  " 

**  Sometimes,"    Mary    replied,    '*  when    we    have 
walked 
Amid  the  tombs,  or  seen  go  wailing  by 
The  mourners  with  their  painted  bier,  and  noise 


246  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Of  funeral  music,  Shelomith  will  smile 

And  whisper  to  herself,  in  words  half-caught, 

Dreamily, — comforting  the  Dead,  it  seems  : 

*  Thou  happy  Sister !  blessed  Brother  !  safe  ! 

Who   will  not   hear  His   Voice  !  And   yet,  sweet ! — 

sweet ! — 
Tender-sweet  sounded  it,  although  it  called 
My  spirit  back  so  far  !     Now,  weep  not  so, 
Ye  living  ones  !     Ye,  too,  shall  pass  !  and,  then — 
To  grow  so  new  and  different ! — What  is't  ? 
Will  men  still  call  it  "  dead  "  ?     We  lie  a-bed  ; 
And  sleep  ;  and  seem,  on  all  our  nights,  to  die  ; 
But  the  soul  wakes,  and  plays  between  the  bars 
Like  a  caged  bird.     Afterwards,  body  wakes. 
And  soul's  asleep,  or  hiding  !     What  surprise 
For  these  who  go  feet  foremost  to  the  grave, 
To  learn  the  dream  was  Day-time,  Light  was  Night, 
Gliding — soft-gliding — to  that  greater  Life, 
Which  always  was  so  near  ; — only  a  skin 
To  cast  aside,  like  the  enameled  snake 


THE    LOVE    OF    GOD    AND    MAN.  247 

And  then— the  fresh  gold  and  the  glittering  blues ! 

Dear  God  !  how  wonderful  those  colors  were 

I  had  not  marked  before — and,  yet,  not  new  ! 

Those  lands  and  seas  I  never  saw  before, 

And,  still,— 'twas  Galilee  and  Gadara  ! 

Those  high  kind  faces  never,  surely,  known  ; — 

And  yet — I  played  with  them  before  they  "  died  " — 

Before  I  "  died  !  "  to  find  them  waiting  me 

So  many,  and  so  many,  and  such  joy  ! 

So  glad  and  natural  !— Till  that  Voice  rang, 

Gentle  and  mighty — which  all  worlds  obey — 

"  Taiitha,  cumi  !  "     "  Come  back,  Shelomith  !  " 

Then  I  obeyed,  coming  reluctantly, 

And  breathed    this  Earth  again  : — He  touching 

me  ! 
Oh,  wallers  !  dance  and  sing  for  your  wise  dead 
Who  do  not  listen  to  "  A/d/a/ai  /  " 
Ah,  fair  Lord  !  pardon  mine  unwilling  feet ! 
Still  I  came  back  !  and  I  will  live,  and  hush. 
Till  thou  sayest :  "  Taiitha  !"     "  Now,  come  again!  "  ' 


248  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

"  So  have  I  heard  her  murmur  " — Mary  said. 

But  when  the  Maid — low  salutations  paid — 
Passed  once  again  the  latticed  door,  none  spake. 
And  silently  the  Buddhist  kissed  the  hem 
Of  Mary's  gown,  departing  silently. 


1B00\\  6. 


THE   GREAT   CONSUMMATION. 


"  If  Death  " — the  Indian  said — "  be  dead,  indeed," 

(That  sixth  day  in  the  House  at  Magdala) 

*'  Be  dead  in  knowing  that  one  human  soul 

Once  laid  this  flesh  aside,  and  went,  and  came, 

Taking  it  up  again  ; — as  she  avers 

Whose  deep  eyes  stayed  my  speaking  yesterday. 

Them  am  I  answered  !     Then  thy  Master  wrought 

Better  than  Buddh,  shewing  the  world  beyond 

Where  men  shall  find  their  treasures  of  good  works 

Laid  up  on  trust,  awaiting  ;  loss  made  gain  ; 

The  Kingdom  come.     Unless,  in  truth,  'twere  dream 

Thy  maid  had  of  the  marvels  and  the  Voice, 
249 


250  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

And    thy    Lord — of     his    Knowledge — spake     '  She 

Sleeps ' 
Such  sleep,  belike,  not  life  nor  death,  but  swoon — 
In  some  dim  region  where  the  dying  halt — 
As  locked  the  senses  of  thy  widow's  son 
In  Nain  ; — unto  this  wisest  Master  know 
At  eye-glance  ;  and  He  did  but  break  a  trance." 

"  Good   Friend  !    I  think  Truth  was  the  merchan- 
dise 
Thy  camels  toiled  to  fetch  this  weary  way 
From  Hind  to  Jordan,"  Mary  answered  him  ; 
"  Else  were  I  loth  to  say  what  I  shall  say 
Telling  thee  farther  of  a  living  one 
Healthful  to-day,  with  colors  of  quick  blood 
Ruddying  his  cheek,  and  bright  hair  clustering; 
No  stronger  step  on  Carmel's  steepest  side  ! 
No  rower  on  our  lake-wave  lustier  ! 
Who  lay  four  nights  a  dead  man  in  the  tomb  ; 
But,  on  the  Master's  call,  came  forth  therefrom 


THE    GREAT    CONSUMMATION.  25 1 

Bound   limb   and  loin  with  grave-cloths, — hands  and 

feet, — 
Forth  from  the  pit,  I  say,  into  the  sun — 
Bound  with  those  bands,  as  we  had  laid  him  there 
Four  days  before,  to  moulder  with  the  worm  ; — 
*We  !'  for  this  dead  man, — living  now,  and  hale — 
Is  El'azar  of  Bethany,  well  known. 
In  all  these  parts — my  Brother.     And  I  saw 
Those  garments  of  the  grave  stripped  swiftly  off, 
And  what  we  put  there — pale,  and  cold,  and  lean, 
A  body  broke  by  ten  days'  fever-fits — 
Stride  over  that  black  threshold,  fair  and  fresh, 
Into  the  daylight,  at  my  Master's  word. 
Last  year  he  sojourned  long  in  Magdala  : 
Yet  'tis  not  well  he  should  be  marked  !     He  walks 
A  wordless,  gentle,  wistful  man  ;  aware 
Of  more  than  may  be  said  in  any  speech, 
Not  of  our  world,  though  in  it,  well  content 
To  wait  Heaven's  way  in  all  things.     Time  will  be 
The  truth  shall  widely  spread  ;  now  it  is  best 


252  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

We  seal  our  lips,  and  watch  him  silently 
Coming  and  going,  manifesting  God. 

"  Yet,  for  thy  sake,  I  speak, — more  freely  speak 
Because  what  I  must  tell  thee,  at  the  close. 
Of  wonder,  glory,  conquest,  comfort,  joy 
Of  consummation  crowned,  and  passage  pierced — 
Blissful,  triumphant — from  high  sacrifice 
To  Heavenly  peace  and  confirmation  strong. 
Destroying  Doubt  and  Death, — cometh  more  sure 
To  thee,  as  heretofore  to  me  and  us, 
With  knowing  this.     We  were  in  Gadara 
And — I  remember — 'twas  a  summer's  eve. 
Amid  the  yellow  daisies  of  the  Lake 
The  children  gathered  round  Him,  brought  from  far 
Only  that  He  might  touch  them.     'Twas  that  hour 
When     He    rebuked     His     Twelve,    saying,    '  Suffer 

these 
To  come  to  Me  !  the  Kingdom  is  of  such  ! 
Who  shall  receive  it  as  a  little  child 


THE    GREAT    CONSUMMATION.  253 

Entereth  therein  ! '     So  sitting  with  a  babe 
Asleep  upon  His  breast,  and  on  His  knee 
One  round-eyed  'Angel  of  the  Kingdom,'  nursed 
Full  fatherly  : — a  shallop  drove  its  keel 
Sharp  on  the  tinkling  shingle,  and  thence  gave 
My  Brother  to  our  band.     For  I  had  told 
At  Bethany  how  great  the  Master  was  ; 
How  wise,  how  holy,  how  compassionate. 
And  El'azar  sped,  running  through  the  reeds  ; 
And  thrust  past  peasants,  mothers,  and  the  Twelve  ; 
And   kneeled  and  prayed  :     '  Good   Master  !   where- 
withal 
Shall  I  gain  Life  eternal  ?'     Jesus  said  : 
'  Call  me  not  good  !      None  is  all  good  save  One  ! 
Thou  knowest  the  Commandments?'  at  those  words 
Reciting  Moses.     Quoth  my  brother,  then, 
'  All  these  have  I  observed  from  my  youth  up  ! ' 
And  Jesus,  seeing,  loved  him  ;  kissed  his  head 
As  Rabbis  will  when  scholars  answer  well  ; 
But  bade  him  go  his  way,  sell  all  his  goods. 


254  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

And  give  his  shekels  to  the  poor,  and  buy- 
Treasures  in  Heaven.     Thereat  El'azar  turned 
Sorrowful,  for  he  was  a  Ruler,  owning  vines, 
Milch-kine  and  olive-yards.     Yet,  that  kind  kiss 
Lay  strong  upon  him  ;  and  he  did  this  thing 
And  gave  much  wealth,  and  lived  for  better  gold, 
And  grew  the  Master's  friend,  faithful,  and  close, 
Ministering,  when  we  came  to  Bethany. 

**  Thus  fell  it — near  to  His  last  Passover — 
That  El'azar  lay  sick  ;  and  we  did  send 
Messengers  saying  :  '  Lord  !  the  man  thou  lov'st 
Lies  sick  to  death.'     But  that  day  came  He  not. 
And  that  day  died  my  Brother  ;  and  the  next  day 
He  would  not  come  ;  He  had  His  purposes  ! 
They  told  us  how  He  said  :  '  El'azar  sleeps  ; 
I  go  to  waken  him  from  sleep  ;'  and,  next. 
When  one  made  answer  :  '  Lord  !  but  if  he  sleep 
He  shall  do  well ! '  the  Master  plainly  said  : 
*  Our  friend  is  dead  ;  for  your  sakes  I  am  glad 


THE    GREAT    CONSUMMATION.  255 

I  was  not  there,  since  now  ye  shall  believe  : 
Let  us  arise  and  go  ;  and  make  him  live  ! ' 

"  But  we,  in  Bethany,  had  borne  our  dead 
Unto  his  tomb.     It  was  a  cavern  cut 
On  the  hill's  face,  with  winding  steps  let  down 
Into  the  darkness,  to  a  sepulchre 
Hewn  chamber-wise  out  of  the  vaulted  rock. 
A  great  stone  goldl  sealed  the  entrance  place 
And  shut  him  with  his  fathers'  bones.     Meseems 
When  thou  didst  journey  here  to  visit  us 
Coming,  by  Bethphage,  o'er  Olivet — 
Near  to  that  point  where  proud  Jerusalem 
Burns  at  the  northward  bend — all  white  and  gold — 
Thy  beasts  trod  by  the  spot.     And,  being  nigh 
The  city's  gates,  many  Jews  came  to  see  us 
For  friendship,  and  to  mingle  tears  o'er  him. 
Suddenly  rumor  grew  the  Lord  drew  near. 
My  sister  rose  to  seek,  and  quick  returned 
Whispering  *  Yea,  He  is  here,  and  calleth  thee  ! ' 


256  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

And  while  we  hastened — many  following  us — 
She  told  me,  on  the  road,  all  which  had  fall'n  ; 
How  she  had  said — distraught — that,  even  now, 
What  He  might  ask  God's  power  would  grant  to  Him  ; 
How  Jesus  answered  :  *  He  shall  rise  again  ! ' 
And  she  had  sighed  :  *  True,  Lord  !  I  know,  I  know  ! 
When  end  of  all  things  comes  ;  at  the  Last  Day  ! ' 
On  which  He  spake  :— the  words  dwell  in  my  heart ! — 

I  AM  THE  RESURRECTION  AND  THE  LiFE  ; 

HE    THAT  BELIEVETH  IN  Me,  THOUGH  HE  WERE  DEAD, 

YET  SHALL  HE  LIVE. 

And    WHOSOEVER    LIVETH    and    BELIEVETH    IN    Me 
SHALL  NEVER  DIE. 

Yet,  now,  we  understood  not ;  and  I  fell 

At  those  dear  feet  with  no  hope  lightening 

My  heavy-burdened  breast.     Too  late  !   too  late  ! 

Why  had  He  tarried,  only  seven  leagues  off. 

Who  might  have  healed  ;  and  El'azar  so  loved  ? 

*  Lord,  had'st  thou  but  been  here! '  brake  from  my  lips, 


'I'HE  Entombment. 


And  tliey  returned  and  prepared  spices  and  ointment.     And  on  the  S.ibbath   they  rested 
according  to  the  commandment. — Li'K'r  XXIII:    56. 


THE    GREAT    CONSUMMATION.  257 

*  My  brother  had  not  died  ! '  Then,  as  I  think, 
To  see  our  tears,  and  all  those  mourning  folk, 
And  know  our  lamentation  one  salt  drop 

In  this  world's  brimful  sea  of  misery  ; 

Bethinking  how,  by  night  and  day  ;  near,  far. 

Eyes  stream,  hearts  crack,  and  homes  are  laid  in  waste 

For  terror  of  this  secret-footed  Death 

Which  comes  unseen,  and  slayeth  silently  ; 

And  hath  not  answered  once,  though  myriads  ask  : 

'  What  art  Thou  ?     Wilt  thou  give  us  back  our  Dead  ? ' 

Bethinking  Him  of  this,  compassionate. 

Folding  all  human  sorrows  in  His  heart. 

Our  Heavenly  Master  groaned  in  spirit  ;  shook, 

A-tremble  with  the  vast  Love,  gathering 

Against  His  breast  all  such  as  weep  on  Earth. 

*  Where  have  ye  laid  him  ? '  sighed  He.     When  I  said 
'  Lord  !  Come  and  see  ! '  the  gracious  eyes  were  wet 
With  tears  which  comfort  all  tears. 

"  Jesus  wept 


258  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

"  So,  to  the  Tomb  we  came.     The  grey  slab  made 

Its  monstrous  door,  where  tread  of  guest  falls  not, 

Nor  knock  is  answered,  but  the  Dead  within 

Keep  speechless  company,  and,  in  the  dark — 

With  none  to  visit  them  save  rat  and  worm  ; 

Nothing  befalling  but  a  bone  which  drops  ; 

Moulder  together,  all  a-'dust  and  dry, 

Saying  no  word, — disconsolate,  undone. 

Staring  with  empty  eyes  at  olive-roots 

Whose  fruit  they  used  to  pluck — for  others  now  ! 

Saying  no  word  !     Husband  and  Wife  and  Child, 

Brother  and  Sister, — who  were  wont  to  mix 

Lips,  hands,  and  hearts  in  Earth's  warm  fellowship, 

Silent  and  separate,  on  noisome  beds. 

Oh,  till  He  lived  did  we  not  dread  our  Dead 

So  still,  so  altered,  so  unlovely,  so —  ? 

Nay  !  when  He  spake  :     '  Roll  me  this  stone  away  !  ' 

My  sister  sobbed  :  '  It  may  not  be  !     Dear  lord  ! 

'Tis  four  days  gone  !  by  this  time  stinketh  he  !  * 


THE    GREAT    CONSUMMATION.  259 

"  '  Roll  me  this  stone  away  ! '  He  said  again  ; 
'Spake  I  not  unto  thee  that  thou  should'st  see 
The  glory  of  God  ? '  Then,  eight  young  men  of  thews, 
With  ox-yokes  and  the  olive-poles,  pushed  back 
The  leaning  rock  ;  and  the  black  adit  gaped 
As  'twere  the  mouth  of  Tophet,  horrible  ! 
The  throng  drew  off ;  the  very  sunshine  seemed 
Loth  to  re-enter,  lighting  two  first  steps 
Of  the  dark  stair-way,  and  the  hollowed  roof 
Where  a  bat  clung  and  cried,  and  spiders  hung 
In  broken  empty  webs,  and  foul  flies  crept. 
Next,  Jesus,  no  more  weeping,  but  His  eyes 
With  pity  and  love  and  power  irradiate, 
Drew  close,  and  set  His  holy  fearless  foot 
On  that  grim  threshold,  and  did  pray  this  prayer  : 
'  Father  !     I  thank  thee  Thou  hast  heard  me  here  ! 
I  know  Thou  hearest  alway  :  but  because 
The  people  standing  nigh  shall  hereby  see 
That  thou  hast  sent  me,  I  did  ask,  and  Thou 
Hast  answered  ! '    Then,  from  lowest  notes,  His  voice 


26o  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Rose  clear,  commanding  :  '  El  'azar  !     Come  forth  !  ' 

Cried  He  imperious.     Oh,  and  in  that  gloom 

Ensued  a  stir, — a  noise  of  rustled  cloths, — 

A  foot-fall  on  the  stair-way  !  El'azar — 

The  dead  man, — cometh  forth  !     Like  unto  one, — 

Who  slumbers  in  his  summer-room,  and  hears 

Intermixt  with  deep  happy  dreams,  a  tone 

He  knows  and  loves  call  him  to  play  ;  and  leaps 

Upon  his  feet,  and  girds  his  coat,  and  hastes 

With  light  steps, — laughing — and  lids  not  yet  wide  ; 

So  El'azar  !  So,  half  asleep  to  see, 

Dazed,  unexpectant  ;  but  alert,  aware. 

My  brother  !  stumbling  somewhat  for  his  bonds. 

And  one  free  hand  fumbling  the  face-cloth  back 

To  spy  the  Master, — stepped  forth  lustily 

Glowing  with  glad  new  life,  wholesome  and  fair  ; 

The  crimson  of  his  lips  and  of  his  cheeks 

Full-colored  ;  eyes  alight,  foot  firm,  voice  strong, 

Loud  and  assured.     But  we, — all  dumb,  for  fear 

And  joy  and  thanks  and  wonder, — held  our  breaths. 


THE    GREAT    CONSUMMATION.  261 

Not  moving,  'till  we  heard  the  Master  say  : 
'  Loose  him,  and  let  him  go  !  '  " 

[Next,  day  by  day, 
She  told  the  story  of  those  later  days 
How  he  did  pass  unto  Jerusalem, 
Wending  to  die,  because  such  death  should  bring 
Fruit  of  his  fair  life  and  high  grace  for  men  ; 
How,  spying  the  proud  City,  as  He  rode 
Meek,  on  an  Ass,  with  children  for  His  guard 
And  glad  hosannas  wakening  the  hills. 
He  sorrowed  for  His  splendid  murderess 
Throned  on  her  rock,  crowned  with  the  great  white 

Dome 
And  girt  with  Kedron  and  the  guardian  hills  ; 
Sighing  :  "Jerusalem  !  Jerusalem  ! 
Slaying  the  Prophets,  stoning  those  that  come 
Messengers  to  thee  !   If,  in  this  thy  day, 
Thou    had'st    but    known  ! — thou,  Zion  !    had'st    but 

heard 


262  THE    LIGHT    OF   THE    WORLD. 

The  things  belonging  to  thy  peace  !  How  oft 

I  would  have  gathered  all  thy  children  in 

As  a  hen  clucks  her  chickens  to  her  wings 

But  thou  would'st  not  !  And  now  behold  thy  House 

So  left  unto  thee  desolate  !  "     She  told 

How  to  that  House  one  last  sad  while  He  passed  ; 

Sate  in  the  Temple,  saw  its  goodly  courts, 

Its  nine  gates  laid  with  gold  ;  its  corner-stones 

Rose-red,  and  white  and  black,  fetched  from  afar 

For  Israel's  God,  each  block  and  desert-crag 

Sculptured  to  beauty  ;  and  the  golden  grapes 

Over  the  golden  doors,  each  shining  bunch 

The  stature  of  a  man ,  its  cedar-work  ; 

Its  alabaster  stairs  ;  that  purple  veil 

Soon  to  be  rent,  shutting  the  "  Holiest  "  in  ; 

The  Ark,  the  Cherubim  with  shielding  wings  ; 

The  vain,  void  Altar  whence  the  God  was  gone. 

For,    "  seest   thou    these   great   buildings  ? "    so    He 

spake, 
"  One  stone  upon  another  doth  not  stand 


THE    GREAT    CONSUMMATION.  263 

Of  all  its  Stones  which  shall  not  be  cast  down 

In  times  to  come  !  "     And,  then — amid  His  friends — 

Told  she  the  sojourning  at  Bethany; 

The  last  sleep  on  the  breast  of  Olivet; 

The  treason  of  the  man  of  Keriaoth 

Selling  for  thirty  pieces  that  sweet  blood 

Which  buys  our  bliss;  the  sad  last  supper  set, 

Secret  and  holy  in  the  City's  midst 

Where  He  did  break  them  bread,  and  pour  them  wine, 

And  wash  the  feet  of  all  the  Twelve — even  his 

Who  must  betray  Him, — his  stained  with  new  dust 

Of  coming  from  the  house  of  Caiaphas, 

And  counting  out  the  shekels.     For  love  hath 

No  measure  in  his  magnanimities. 

And,  "  peradventure,"  Mary  said:  "  even  he — 

After  self-loathing,  and  Aceldama — 

Hath  somewhere,  by  strange  grace,  some  place  again — 

With  bitter  heart-pangs  purged,  near  to  his  Lord; 

Who  chose  him  at  the  first,  and  at  the  last 

Washed  liim,  well-knowing  of  the  wicked  kiss. 


264  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE   WORLD. 

For  as  the  sin  so  is  the  suffering, 
And  Judas  needs  must  ache  with  Jesu's  cheek." 
Next,  she  recited  how,  that  last  dread  night — 
Eve  of  the  Cross — He  passed,  as  all  men  pass, 
Into  His  anguish — to  Gethsemane. 
"  For  it  were  not  to  be  a  man,"  said  she, 
"  If  once,  and  briefly,  and  with  trailing  wings, 
Soul  did  not  bid  the  body  fond  farewell 
At  hour  when  soul  comes  to  the  throat,  and  flits 
Glad  of  past  days,  and  greatly  moved  to  part. 
One  time  must  be,  in  all  the  lives  which  live. 
When  strength  sinks  into  weakness,  faith  desponds. 
And  fair  hope  swoons,  and — for  a  little  while — 
No  star  shews  where  the  path  winds;  not  one  gleam 
From  all  those  promised  Angels  who  have  gone, 
And  know  the  way,  and  should  be  there  to  make 
The  Valley  of  the  Shadow  safe  with  hands 
Familiar,  at  first  touch,  in  thickest  dark. 
He,   Sir!"— she    said:— "  ev'n  He:  for  whom  rayed 
worlds 


THE    GREAT    CONSUMMATION,  ,    265 

Watched,  with  unwinking  silver  eyelashes, 

That  sad  night  of  their  little  sister- world; 

He,  who  had  twenty  myriad  Shining  Ones 

With  golden  plumes  at  poise,  fluttering  to  fly 

Swift — if  it  might  have  been — to  wipe  His  brow 

Clear  of  the  bloody  sweat,  and  comfort  Him, 

And  catch  Him  to  His  Kingdom — prayed  full  sore — 

The  God  consenting  while  the  Mortal  shrank — 

*  Abba  !  all  things  are  possible  with  Thee  ! 

Sorrowful  is  my  spirit,  unto  death  ! 

If  it  may  be,  let  this  Cup  pass  from  Me  ; 

If  this  Cup  may  not  pass  away  from  Me 

Except  I  drink  it,  let  Thy  will  be  done  ! ' " 

And,  afterwards,  the  Treason  : — the  foul  kiss — 
"  Hail,  Master  !  " — and  the  tender  answer,  "  Friend  ! 
Betraj'est  thou  Me  with  kissing?" — torches'  glare  ; 
Swords,  staves  ;  as  if  to  take  a  thief  by  night — • 
The  hour,  and  power,  of  Darkness.     "  El'azar 
Saw  all,"  she  said;  "  he  was  the  *  young  man  '  there 


266  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Following  for  love,  wearing  that  *  linen  cloth  ' 

Whom  they  did  strip  and  seize."  On  that,  the  Priests 

The  Sanhedrin,  the  Judgment — (what  she  told 

Heretofore  unto  Pilate) — Pilate's  wrath  ; 

The  scourge  ;  the  mocking  purple  cloak  ;  the  crown 

Jewelled  with  blood  ;  the  path  to  Golgotha  ; 

The  cruel  Cross  (oh,  Tree,  which  made  its  wood, 

Who  planted  thee  ?     Did  birds  nest  in  thy  boughs 

And  sunshine  light  thy  leaves?);  the  cruel  Cross  ; 

The  savage  rending  nails  ;  the  scroll  ;  the  sponge  ; 

The  cry  '■'■Eloi,  la??ia  sabacthani!"  then 

His  death-word  "  It  is' finished  !  " — and  the  death, 

And  spear-blade  deep  into  His  dead  side  plunged. 

And  the  Centurion,  crying  :  "Verily, 

This  was  a  Son  of  God  ! "] 

"  Oh  !  we  were  fain 
For  sorrow  and  for  shame" — said  Miriam — 
"  Who  stood  to  see  Him  die  !     Never  so  low 
Bowed  the  bright  Sun,  stooping  to  bathe  his  gold 


THE    GREAT    CONSUMMATION.  267 

In  whelming  waves  ;  never  so  meek,  and  lost, 
Faded  the  splendor  of  the  Morning-Star 
Before  that  Morning  which  it  heralded, 
As  He  did  humble  and  abjure  Himself — 
In  moment  of  arriving  majesty — 
Consenting  on  the  Cross  to  hang  and  die. 
Had  we  not  seen — did  we  not  know  Heaven's  might 
Servant  and  succor  to  Him  ?  plumed  bands 
Of  Presences  invisible,  intent. 
Upon  His  lightest  sighing,  loyall}'. 
To  go  and  come,  bearing  Him  embassage  ? 
Oh,  measure  v.-hat  a  love,  if  thou  canst  mete, 
The  immortal  pity  of  that  soul  serene. 
Pitiless  only  to  its  body,  firm 
To  hold  it  uncomplaining,  patient,  still. 
Close  to  the  Cross;  of  one  mind  with  the  nails. 
With  the  dull,  senseless  wood — for  sake  of  men, 
And  great  salvation  of  all  flesh  to  be. 
Not    summoning    once,    with     one     swift    thinking 
thought, 


268  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

The  rescue  that  had  rushed  on  wings  of  fire 
From  North  and  South  and  East  and  West,  to  aid. 
Not  suffering  once — not  when  the  fever  raged 
Worst  in  His  veins,  and  thirst  blackened  His  lips. 
And  those  whom  He  had  come  to  teach  and  save 
Gave  Him  no  better  thanks  than  bitter  gibes — 
Not  suffering  Death, — who  waited  weepingly 
For  leave  to  strike — to  hasten  one  small  step 
Quicker  for  Him  than  for  the  thieves  who  hung 
On  either  hand  !     All  this  to  wring  no  word 
From  His  most  innocent  and  pardoning  breast 
Except  the  tender  mandate,  sadly  sighed 
To  Mary  Mother,  wailing  at  His  feet  ; 
And  the  sick  gasp,  '  I. thirst  !'.  and  spirit's  spasm 
*  Father  !  dost  Thou  forsake  Me  ?'  and  the  cry 
Of  Victory's  anguish  :  'IT  IS  FINISHED!'" 

**  And  measure — if  the  mind  can  ever  mete — 
That  sorrow  of  us  standing  by,  who  saw 
Our  Master, — Master  over  Death  and  Pain, 


THE     GREAT    CONSUMMATION.  269 

Lord  of  all  Angels,  and  all  devils — droop 
Unhelped  ;  we  who  so  loved  Him,  helplessly 
Gazing  far-off— held  from  His  bleeding  feet 
By  Pilate's  spears,  and  guards  of  Caiaphas, 
And  Roman  soldiers,  casting  lots  to  share 
His  sacred  vestments  !     Measure  what  a  pang 
Tore    us,    and    mocked    our    faith,    and    made    our 

hopes 
Fall,  leaf  by  leaf ;  like  last  leaves,  when  the  blast 
Of  winter  strips  the  vineyard  grey  and  bare  ! 
Nay,  but  not  mine  !     Truly,  I  tell  you,  Sir! 
I  loved  Him  so  ! — I  worshipped  so  !     I  knew 
So  well  in  inmost  mind  He  could  not  die. 
And  would  not  die,  and  was  not  less  than  God, 
And  should  make  good  to  ail,  in  His  good  time, 
The  meaning,  and  the  means,  and  mystery  ; 
And  be  that  King  they  wrote  Him  on  the  scroll  ; 
That,  while  mine  eyes  ran  tears  too  thick  to  see 
His  dear  face,  and  my  fingers  clenched  themselveJi 
Into  my  palms,  as  if  they  were  the  nails 


270  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Piercing  His  hands  ;  I  went  not  otherwise 
Than  full-assured  it  would  be  well  at  last. 

"Yet,  measure — if  thy  mind  can  measure  this — 
How  lost  we  stood,  defeated,  abject,  shamed. 
Those  Twelve — with  Judas  one  ;  and  all  the  rest 
Fled  at  Gethsemane — and  I  ;  and  she 
Who  bore  Him  ;  and  the  woman  ministering  ; 
And  some  poor,  few,  sad,  fearful  friends  aloof 
Afraid  to  grieve,  because  of  those  stern  spears  ; 
Shut  from  the  shaking  Cross,  whispering  their  woe 
Lest  Galilaean  country-tongues  bewray. 
And  they  be  known — like  Peter — for  His  sheep. 
Only  this  left  of  those  high-nourished  dreams 
About  the  times  to  follow  Galilee 
When  He  should  sit  upon  His  Kingdom's  throne, 
And  rule  the  land,  and  give  to  Israel — 
The  Roman  eagles  driven  screaming  off — 
Days  of  King  David's  majesty  again, 
Solomon's  splendors — more  than  Solomon's  ! 


THE    GREAT    CONSUMMATION.  27 1 

Only  this  left  of  larger  phantasies 

When  we  looked  higher— saw  Him  judging  Earth 

At  God's  right  hand  ;  aye  !  by  those  pleasant  fields 

Of  Dalmanutha,  and  the  green  sea-shores — 

Drunk,  like  the  children  of  the  Bride-chamber, 

With  his  new  wine  of  love — begged  for  tlie  seats 

This  side  and  that  side  of  His  Royalty, 

Over  the  heads  of  Angels.     And,  now  this  ! 

For  our  King's  drink  the  hyssop  on  the  sponge  ! 

For  our  King's  purple  the  slow. trickling  blood  ! 

For  our  King's  courtiers  the  writhing  thieves 

This  side  and  that  !  for  our  King's  ministers 

Those  legionaries  with  the  savage  spears  ! 

For  our  King's  praises  gibes  of  passers-by  ! 

For  our  King's  throne  the  cruel  torturing  Tree  ! 

We — who  in  those  glad  days  of  Galilee 

Left  all  and  followed  Him  ;  certain  and  sure 

The  Angels'  song  was  true,  Heaven's  joy  was  come 

Visible,  lovable,  approachable, 

In  this  sweet,  well-beloved  Son  of  Man  : 


272  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

That  we  had  seen  and  heard  the  Power  of  God 

Made  Mercy,  made  Forgivingness,  made  Peace  ; 

And  elemental  enemies,  and  Death, 

Dropping  their  old  ill  masks  to  manifest 

All  things  in  all  the  spheres  servants  to  Him, 

Lovers  of  Man,  and  secret  Ministers  : — 

We    to    stand    weeping    there — His    sad,    shamed 

Church — 
The  last  scorned  ruins  of  the  large  scheme  planned 
To  take  the  whole  World  by  the  hand  of  Love, 
And  make  all  flesh  One  Father's  family. 
Ah,  never  since  tears  rolled — since  human  hearts 
Beat  quick  with  hope,  to  break  in  black  despair, 
Lay  Love  so  wingless.  Faith  so  quite  forlorn 
As  that  dread  day,  on  guilty  Golgotha  !  " 

She    paused — the   great    drops  welling   from    her 
eyes — 
But  lit  behind  by  such  a  ray  as  breaks 
Across  the  April  rain,  and  paints  the  Bow. 


Emmaus. 

Abide  with  us  :   for  it  is  toward  evening,  and  the  day  is  now  far  spent. ^I.ikk  XXI  V  :  29 


y^^'    OF  THE         s^ 

fUHlVEESITT] 


THE     GREAT    CONSUMMATION.  273 

"  Yet   thou  " — she   said — "  who    knowest    stars  in 

Heaven, 
Which  are  not  gone  because  we  see  them  not, 
Shalt   learn    in    that    dark    hour   was    clearest 

shewn 
The  eternal  lustre  of  my  Lord's  sweet  Star. 

"  It  was  our  Sabbath-eve.     By  set  of  sun 
Arimathaean  Joseph  craved,  and  gained 
The  grace  to  lay  Him  in  his  Sepulchre 
Fresh-hewn,  where  no  man  ever  yet  was  laid, 
Shut  in  a  garden.     And  did  bring  Him  there 
Tenderly  taken  from  the  bloody  Cross, 
Wrapped  in  fine  sindon,  and  strewn  round  about 
With  myrrh  and  aloes — gifts  for  burial 
From  Nakdimon  the  Rabbi — as  much  spice 
As  should  a  King's  grave  sweeten.     And  they  set 
A  great  stone  to  the  entrance  of  the  Tomb. 
And  I — with  one  more — watched  them  set  the  stone. 
But  might  not  come  at  Him,  to  make  Him  fair, 


274  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Because  a  guard  of  soldiers  kept  the  place  ; 

Also,  it  was  the  Sabbath.  ^ 

"  So  night  passed  ; 
And  all  that  next  slow  day  ;  and  night  again. 

"  Then,  while  the  first  day  of  the  week  was  dark, 
Alone  I  wended  to  His  sepulchre. 
Bearing  fair  water,  and  the  frankincense, 
And  linen,  that  my  Lord's  sweet  body  sleep 
Well  in  the  rock.     And,  while  my  woeful  feet 
Passed  through  the  gate,  and  up  the  paved  ascent 
Along  the  Second  Wall,  over  the  Hill, 
Into  that  Garden,  hard  by  Golgotha, — 
The  Morning  brightened  over  Moab's  peaks, 
Touched  the  great  Temple's  dome  with  crimson  fires, 
Lit  Ophel  and  Moriah  rosy-red. 
Made  Olivet  all  gold,  and,  in  the  pools 
In  Hinnom  laid  a  sudden  lance  of  flame. 
And,  from  the  thorn-trees,  brake  the  waking-songs 


THE    GREAT    CONSUMMATION. 


275 


Of  little  birds  ;  and  every  palm-tree's  top 
Was  full  of  doves  that  cooed,  as  knowing  not 
How  Love  was  dead,  and  Life's  dear  glory  gone, 
And  the  World's  hope  lay  in  the  tomb  with  Him  ; 
Which  now  I  spied, — that  hollow  in  the  rock 
Under  the  camphire  leaves.     Yet,  no  guards  there 
To  help  me  roll  the  stone  !  nay,  and  no  stone  ! 
It  lay  apart,  leaving  the  door  a-gape, 
And  through  the  door,  as  I  might  dimly  see, 
The  scattered  wrappings  of  the  Burial-night, 
Pale  gleams  amidst  the  gloom.     Not  waiting,  then,- 
Deeming  our  treasure  taken  wickedly — 
I  sped  ;  and  came  to  Peter,  and  to  John  ; 
And  cried  :  'Our  Lord  is  stolen  from  His  grave 
And  none  to  tell  where  He  is  borne  away  ! ' 
Thereat,  they  ran  together,  came,  and  saw  ; 
And  entered  in  ;  and  found  the  linen-cloths 
Scattered  ;  the  rock-bed  empty  ;  and,  amazed. 
Back  to  their  house  they  went.     But  I  drew  nigh 
A  second  time,  alone  ;  Heart-broken  now 


276  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

The  bright  day  seeming  blackest  night  to  me, 

The  small  birds  mockers,  and  the  City's  noise — 

Waking  within  the  walls — hateful  and  vain. 

Why  should  Earth  wake,  the  Son  of  Man  asleep  ? 

Or  that  great  guilty  City  rise  and  live. 

With  this  dear  Lord,  dead,  in  her  stony  skirts? 

Fled,  too,  my  last  fond  hope,  to  lay  Him  fair, 

And  kiss  His  wounded  feet,  and  wash  the  blood 

From  the  pierced  palms,  and  comb  His  tangled  hair 

To  comeliness,  and  leave  Him — like  a  King — 

To  His  forgetful  Angels.     Weeping  hard 

With  these  thoughts,  like  to  snake-fangs,  stinging  me 

My  left  hand  on  the  stone  I  laid,  and  shut 

The  eager  sunshine  off  with  my  right  hand, 

Kneeling,  and  looking  in  the  Sepulchre. 

It  was  not  dark  within  !     I  deemed  at  first 

A  lamp  burned  there,  such  radiance  mild  I  saw 

Lighting  the  hewn  walls,  and  the  linen-bands  ; 

And,  in  one  corner,  folded  by  itself. 

The  face-cloth.     Coming  closer,  I  espied 


THE     GREAT    CONSUMMATION.  277 

Two  men  who  sate  there, — very  watchfully — 

One  at  the  head,  the  other  at  the  foot 

Of  that  stone  table  where  my  Lord  had  lain. 

Oh  !     I  say  '  men  ' — I  should  have  known  no  men 

Had  eyes  like  theirs,  shapes  so  majestical, 

Tongues  tuned  to  such  a  music  as  the  tone 

Wherewith    they    questioned    me  : — *  Why    weepest 

thou  ?' 
'Ah,  Sirs  !'     I  said  :  *  my  Lord  is  ta'en  away. 
Nor  wot  we  whither  !'  and  thereat  my  tears 
Blotted  all  seeing.     So,  I  turned  to  wipe 
The  hot  drops  off  ;  and,  look  !     Another  one 
Standing  behind  me,  and  my  foolish  eyes 
Hard  gazing  on  Him,  and  not  knowing  Him  ! 
Indeed,  I  deemed  this  was  the  Gardener 
Keeping  the  Trees  and  Tomb,  so  was  He  flesh  ; 
So  living,  natural,  and  made  like  man 
Albeit,  if  I  had  marked — if  any  ray 
Of  watchful  hope  had  helped  me — such  a  look, 
Such  Presence,  beautiful  and  pure  ;  such  light 


278  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Of  loveliest  compassion  in  His  face, 

Had  told  my  beating  heart  and  blinded  eyes 

WHO    this   must   be.     But    I — my   brow   i'    the 

dust — 
Heard  Him  say  softly  :  *  Wherefore  weepest  thou  ? 
Whom  seekest  thou  ?'     A  little  marvelled  I — 
Still  at  His  foot,  too  sorrowful  to  rise, — 
He  should  ask  this, — the  void  grave  gaping  near 
And  He  its  watchman  ;  yet  His  accents  glad  ; 
Nay,  each  word  sweet  with  secret  resonance 
Of  joy  shut  in  it  ;  and  a  tender  note 
Of  lightness,  like  the  gentle  raillery 
Which  lovers  use,  dissembling  happiness. 
Nathless,  not  lifting  up  my  foolish  head, 
*  Sir,'  said  I,  '  If  'tis  thou  hast  borne  Him  hence. 
Tell  me  where  thou  hast  laid  Him.     Then  will  I 
ear  Him  away  !'  " 

"What  ansv.'er  came  to  that?" 
Fetching  deep  breath,  the  Indian  asked, — 


THE     GREAT    CONSUMiMATION.  279 

And  stie — 
Her  white  arms  wide  out-raught— as  if  she  saw 
His  feet  again  to  clasp  ;  her  true  knee  bent 
(\s  He  were  there  to  worship  ;  her  great  eyes 
Bhining  with  glow  of  fearless  faithful  love, 
As  if,  once  more,  they  looked  Ilim  in  the  face, 
And  drank  divinest  peace— replied,  elate  : 
"  Ah,  Friend  !  such  answer  that  my  sadness  turned 
Gladness,  as  suddenly  as  grey  is  gold 
When  the  Sun  springs  in  glory  !  such  a  word 
As  made  my  mourning  laugh  itself  to  nought 
Like  a  cloud  melting  to  the  Blue  !     Such  word 
As,  with  more  music  than  Earth  ever  heard. 
Set  my  swift-dancing  veins  full  well  aware 
Why  so  the  Day  dawned,  and  the  City  stirred, 
And  the  vast  idle  world  went  busy  on, 
And  the  birds  carolled,  and,  in  palm-tree  tops. 
The  wise  doves  cooed  of  love  !     Oh,  a  dear  word 
Spoke  first  to  me,  and,  after  me,  to  all, 
That  all  may  always  know  He  is  the  Lord, 


28o  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

And  Death  is  dead,  and  new  times  come  for  men ; 
And  Heaven's  ways  justified,  and  Christ  alive, 
Whom  we  saw  die,  nailed  on  the  cruel  Cross  ! 
For,  while  I  lay  there,  sobbing  at  His  feet 
The  word  He  spake — My  Lord!  my  King!  my  Christ! 
Was  my  name  : 

" ' MARY  I ' 

•'  If  I  say  the  Dead 
Catch  tone  of  some  such  melting  tenderness 
When  first  their  lovers  in  the  new  Life  flock 
And  greet  and  kiss  them,  telling  them  sweet  things 
Of  bliss  beyond,  and  Love  crowned  Conqueror  ; 
If  I  should  speak  of  children,  dreaming  ill, 
And  then  grown  'ware  it  is  the  dear  safe  breast 
Of  their  fond  Mother  which  they  fret  upon  ! 
If  I  should  liken  hopeless  mariners 
Snatched    sudden   from   black   gulfs  ;    or   men   con- 
demned, 


THE    GREAT    CONSUMMATION.  251 

Ransomed  from  chains,  and  led  to  marriage-feasts; — 

With  the  swift  comfort  of  that  instant  change, 

All  must  fall  short  !     No  language  had  I  then, 

No  language  have  I  now  !  only  I  turned 

My   quick  glance    upward  ;  saw   Him  ;    knew   Him  ! 

sprang 
Crying :  '  Rabboni  ! — Lord  !  my  Lord  !  dear  Lord  ! '  " 


Thereat,  within  the  house  of  Magdala, 
Fell  silence, — Mary  on  her  knees  at  prayer, 
Lost  for  a  little  unto  earthly  things  : 
And  he,  who  came  so  far,  and  came  so  late. 
To  know  what  setting  had  the  fair  white  Star 
Seen  over  Bethlehem — clasping  dark  palms 
Across  his  breast,  and  humbly  bowed  to  hail 
Her,  of  all  women — after  One — most  blest, 
Most  honored,  and  most  honorable  ;  whose  love, 


252  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Washing  her  sins  away  with  holy  chrism — 
More  precious  than  much  spikenard, — won  hereby 
The  first  word  ever  spoke  from  Heaven's  own  moutli 
Plain  to  Earth's  ears,  to  tell  us  Death  has  died, 
And  Love  shall  save  all  that  will  trust  in  Him. 

"  Oh  !     Thou  most  happy  Lady  !  " — presently 
The  Indian  said  :  "  I  praise  and  worship  thee 
Messenger  of  thy  Master  to  all  Lands  ! 
Surely  thy  name  shall  be,  in  times  to  come, 
Sweet  on  the  lips  of  all  men  ;  and  thy  sex, 
Thy  sisters — lifted  into  larger  grace. 
For  thy  great  sake,  and  for  this  mighty  thing 
Done  to  thy  tenderness  and  constancy — 
Laud  thee,  and  joy  in  thee,  who  dost  make  known — 
To  saintliest  souls  not  less  than  sinning  souls — 
The  Woman's  queenly  part  in  this  world's  plan  ! 
I  do  perceive — since  Age,  which  dims  the  eye, 
Opens  the  inward  vision — there  shall  spread 
News  of  these  high  '  Good  Tidings' ;  growing  gleams 


THE    GREAT    CONSUMMATION.  28;, 

Of  ihis  Strange  Star  we  followed  to  the  fold. 
I  do  discern  that,  forth  from  this  fair  Life, 
And  this  meek  Death,  and  thine  arisen  Christ, 
Measureless  things  are  wrought  ;   a  Thought-Dawn 

born 
Which  shall  not  cease  to  broaden,  till  its  beam 
Makes  noon  of  Knowledge  for  a  gathered  World, 
Completing  what  our  Buddha  left  unsaid  ; 
Carpeting  bright  his  noble  Eight-fold  Way 
With  fragrant  blooms  of  all-renouncing  love. 
And  bringing  high  Nirvana  nearer  hope, 
Easier  and  plainer  !     Spake  thy  living  Lord 
More    than    the    name  ?     Camest   thou    to    touch    of 

Him?" 

Mary  replied  :  "  It  seems  a  little  thing. 
Now, — seest  thou, — when  so  great  a  thing  is  told — 
That  being  a  Son  of  God  and  Man,  he  knew 
Life's  hidden  spring,  and  called  the  Spirit  back 
At  Nain,  and  after,  at  Capernaum  ; 


284  THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Or  Stayed  the  worm  at  work  in  Bethany  ; 
Where,  for  God's  glory,  he  gave  back  again 
The  bodily  house,  quick-mended,  to  His  friend, 
To  El'azar,  my  Brother.     But,  mark  well  ! 
Here  was  the  body  of  the  life  beyond 
Which  these  unworthy  eyes  did  look  upon  ! 
That  we  shall  wear  when  flesh  is  laid  aside  ; 
No  eye  shall  see  it,  save  by  mystery 
Making  flesh  spirit,  or  the  Spiritual 
Take  fleshly  shape  awhile. 

"  When  I  was  fain 
To  fling  my  arms  around  His  knees,  and  pour 
My  hair  upon  His  feet,  and  eat,  eat,  eat 
His  garment's  hem  with  kissing  ;  measuredly 
He  stayed  me,  saying  :  '  Touch  me  not  !  not  yet 
Am  I  ascended  to  my  Father  !     Go  ! 
Speak  to  my  brethren  ;  say  that  I  ascend 
Unto  my  Father,  and  to  yours, — my  God, 
And  your  God.' " 


THE    GREAT    CONSUMMATION.  285 

"  Was  he  seen  again  of  men  ? " 
The  Buddhist  prayed. 

"  Many  whiles  !  "  answered  she  : 
Three  times  on  that  First  Day,  and,  afterwards 
In  his  old  paths  by  silver  Galilee  : 
And  in  the  Mountain  ;  where  He  met  His  own, 
And  made  their  cheer  celestial.     Last  of  all 
He  shewed  in  full  midst  of  Jerusalem, 
Amongst  the  eleven, — nail-marks  on  hands  and  feet 
Rose-red,  and  spear-gash  scarring  the  white  side  ; 
And  ate  of  fish  and  honey  from  their  board  : 
Then  blessed,  and  led  them  forth  to  Olivet ; 
And  passed — as  if,  they  said,  a  waiting  cloud 
Received  Him  out  of    sight." 

''Centurion  !" 
The  Indian  cried  : — "set  there  to  see  him  die  :  — 
Truly  the  Son  of  God  !  " — 


286  the  light  of  the  world. 

Peace  beginning  to  be 
Deep  as  the  sleep  of  the  sea 
When  the  stars  their  faces  glass 
In  its  blue  tranquillity  : 
Hearts  of  men  upon  earth, 
Never  once  still  from  their  birth, 
to  rest  as  the  wild  waters  rest 
With  the  colors  of  heaven  on  their  brfast  ! 

Love,  which  is  sunlight  of  peace, 
Age  by  age  to  increase 
Till  anger  and  hatreds  are  dead, 
And  sorrow  and  death  shall  cease  : 
"Peace  on  earth  and  good-will  !" 
Souls  that  are  gentle  and  still 
Hear  the  first  music  of  this 
Far-off,  infinite,  bliss  ! 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


Vou  initelit  expend  $(i,ooo  a  year  for  American  and  foreii.'ji 
periodicals,  and  devote  eight  liour.i  a  I'-ay  to  reading  them,  and  then  not  kcc;) 
yourself  as  well  abreast  of  ilic  thought  aiid  discussion  of  the  world,  as  you  can 
now  by  investing  $3.00  a  year  iii  TUe  l,iterary  Digest  and  spending 
three  hours  a  week  reading  it. 

'^''liat  It  Is:  It  is  a  weekly  periodical  of  32  quarto  pages,  in  which  arc 
presented  careful  condensations  of  all  the  noteworthy  articles  appearing  in  the 
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condensations  from  foreign  languages  are,  of  course,  m  xdc  in  English] 

A  Remarkable  Recorcl  ha:>  been  made  by  Xlie  ■..itcrary 
Dlg^est  during  the  last  six  months.  Its  table  of  contents  for  that  pci  io.l 
included 


755  Articles 

as  follows : 

179  Political. 
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107  Miscellaneous. 
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From  161  Leading  Magazines 

as  fcillows  ; 

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"' A  sample  copy  of  your  'Literary  Digest'  has  been  handed  me  by  a 
friend,  and  I  am  so  pleased  with  it  that,  although  an  editor,  and  supplied  with 
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An  expressive  communication : 

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Digest'  of  Nov.  15th.  I  like  it  better  than  the  more  lengthly  article  which 
appeared  in  the  November  Nationalist. 

Boston,  Nov.  12th,  1890.  E.  S.  Huntington. 

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